Repercussions
by MDB2005
Summary: AU, Season 2 after Baskerville life will never be the same. Johnlock, M/M, Slash (explicit), mature content begins in Part II. Warning contains MPREG. Reviews welcome. Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to characters and make no money from this story. No Beta, Not brit picked, please excuse any errors.
1. Part 1 Chapter 1-10

Repercussions

Chapter 1

Baskerville

The beeping woke him. Sherlock's eyes slid opened and quickly snapped shut again in order to block out the blindingly bright light. He struggled to clear his sluggish mind. Sherlock's eyes remained shut but he inhaled deeply. The smell of antiseptics was not enough to completely block the faint smell of animals. Baskerville. The thought floated quickly through his mind before the drugs took hold of him again and he drifted back to unconsciousness.

221B Baker Street

Dr. John Watson paced around the flat. "Lestrade, what do you mean there are no leads!" he snapped into the mobile. Sherlock had been missing for two months. He and John had been investigating a case in Baskerville, when the fog had enveloped them both. When it finally cleared Sherlock was gone without a trace. Even with Mycroft's government connections and searching the research base, parts of which were still restricted, they were unable to find any sign of what may have happened to Sherlock. John knew that there was some kind of foul play at hand.

"I'm sorry John, but I think it's time to close the case." Lestrade said softly. John's eyes squeezed shut painfully as the thought of giving up ran through his mind. Rationally, he knew that the odds of finding Sherlock alive at this point were practically zero, he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

"Please Greg, we have to keep trying." John said struggling to keep his voice even. Sherlock had become more than just his flat mate; he had become his friend.

"As much as it grieves him to admit it, Mycroft agrees. We are closing the case." Lestrade said in a tone that left no room for argument. John sighed and thought it better not to argue. This was far from over though. Mycroft and the Yard may have given up, but John wasn't ready yet. Back to the scene of the crime, he thought as he headed back to the research base.

Baskerville

Sherlock struggled to fight of the effects of the sedatives. They failed to increase the dose as his tolerance steadily increased over time. He kept his eyes closed and breathing even in order to attract as little attention as possible. He opened his other senses and listened. The steady beeping of the cardiac monitor was familiar as well as the steady hum of the IV pump. Sherlock could also hear the muffled cries of animals in the background. He was sure that he was still in the bowels of the labs in Baskerville. He could hear the murmurs of the researchers as the stood in the hallway. "The subject has been responding to the treatment." A female voice said. Sherlock was unsure of whom she spoke.

"Indeed." Another researcher replied. This voice belonged to a male, a deep baritone. Their conversation was interrupted a security alarm. "Perimeter breach" The automated system announced. Sherlock struggled to stay calm in the hopes his heart rate would not increase and attract attention. "Bollocks! What now?" the male snapped as both researchers moved further down the hall to investigate. As their foot stepped grew fainter, Sherlock cracked his eyes open ever so slightly. The lights had been dimmed and Sherlock didn't see anyone in the immediate vicinity.

He carefully turned his head. The room spun for a moment. Vertigo. He thought as he continued to take stock of his symptoms from his recently regained senses. Muscle weakness. Fatigue. Nausea. He attempted to sit up but found that he had been strapped to the bed. There was a catheter draining his urine and he had an NG tube and central line, which were both infusing substances into him. There was also a dressing on his lower abdomen. His entire body ached but his abdomen was particularly sore. The alarm was still active and it had now been two minutes and 45 second since it had begun. Sherlock surveyed the room cataloging the details. _Two doors; one exit; one adjoining to the medical supply room and pharmacy. Two- way glass mirrors for subject observation; additionally motion detectors and cameras throughout the facility. Trapped. _Just as Sherlock finished his observation the main power was cut. The emergency generators kicked on and power was diverted to the most critical equipment. The animals screeched in dismay.

A few seconds later, the generators switched off and Sherlock was enveloped in darkness. Sherlock lay in the dark straining to hear anything that might clue him in as to what was happening. Twelve minutes later, the power switched back on and the security alarm was silent. Sherlock could only contemplate what may have caused the breach.

John groaned as he fought to stay awake. "Dr. Watson, you should have left well enough alone. We were going to kill you as soon as you were caught, but then we changed our minds. We think that you will make an excellent subject." The female research said cruelly as she injected him with the sedative.

"What are your plans with this one?" Her assistant asked as he logged the John's height, weight and vital signs into their system. She smiled.

"Since it was Dr. Watson's obsessions with Sherlock Holmes which brought him here to us. I think that I have devised something rather fitting for the two of them."

Chapter 2

Parliament

Mycroft shut his laptop in frustration. Not only was Sherlock still missing but also now Dr. Watson had gone missing a month ago as well. Mycroft still suspected Baskerville was at the heart of both disappearances but had found no concrete evidence with which to support the theory. He asked Lestrade to close the case so the he would be free to do some digging without the yard looking over his shoulder. It had taken every technical contact Mycroft had but they had managed to hack into Baskerville's computer system and while no names were used just subject numbers there were a number of suspicious anomalies.

A new subject 303 had been added to the system the same day of Sherlock's disappearance. The height and weight would match Sherlock's and two months after that, around the time that John went missing; another subject 315 was added to the system with similar height and weight to that of John Watson. The procedures were coded and not described in any detail. The only things clearly documented were medications, vital signs, and weight. The two subjects whom Mycroft believed to be John and Sherlock had similarly coded procedures. However there were differences in the third coded procedure in each of the subjects.

Mycroft was still working on his political influence to have the entire facility shut down completely. This was taking longer than anticipated, without legally obtained evidence; but Mycroft believed that he would soon get the authorization to shut Baskerville down. He just hoped that if Sherlock and John were still there that Mycroft could get them both out alive.

"Bloody pain in my bollocks that you are Sherlock. " Mycroft murmured under his breath. "What I go through for family." Mycroft sighed as much trouble as Sherlock had caused him over the years. He was Mycroft's only brother and he did love him. Sherlock had come as surprise to both of their parents. His father had been a diplomat and travelled constantly. It was during one of his trips to France he met and fell in love their mother Vivian Lemont. He had convinced her to marry him and come to England. Mycroft still had trouble picturing their romance. His father was rather cold and calculating, but at the same time could be extremely charming when he wanted something, which served him well in his profession and a trait which Mycroft seemed to have inherited. Their mother on the other hand was sensitive and wore he heart on her sleeve. There must be a grain of truth to the old adage "opposites attract" Mycroft supposed. All things considered, his parents had a happy marriage. They had been happy to have Mycroft. It had taken his mother years to conceive and they were not about to push their luck. Mycroft could still remember the shocked expression on his father's face when their mother had blurted out that she was pregnant; full of apologies and tears. Change of life baby. Luckily once the shock wore off, his parents acclimated to the idea of a second child. He could still remember the day Sherlock was born. He had been a beautiful baby and when Mummy gave him to Mycroft to hold the first time he had fallen in love. Mycroft had many fond memories of their early years together, especially the summers they spent together in France with their Mummy's Mother Grand-mere Colette.

Over time, however, the 10-year age difference became a hindrance in their relationship. Sherlock was only six when Mycroft had left for university. They had only seen each other after that during holidays and semester breaks, while Mycroft attended university. Sherlock, even as a very young child, had been highly intelligent as well as brutally honest which got him into trouble more times than Mycroft could count. It also caused tension between Sherlock and his classmates, which further exacerbated his antisocial tendencies isolating him even further from his peers. When their father died in Mycroft's first semester at university, it had been another emotional blow to the entire family.

Mycroft cringed as he remembered Sherlock's teenaged years. Sherlock had become wild and uncontrollable, leaving their poor mother at the end of her rope. She had been forced to institutionalize Sherlock for drug addiction treatment at the age of fourteen. The psychiatrist labeled Sherlock as a high functioning sociopath while in treatment. Sherlock fought with the physician tooth and nail. Eventually, he was released after detox and nearly a year of psychiatric treatment not so much cured according to the doctor but stabilized. Mycroft always wondered if there was more to the story than that but Sherlock had refused to talk about it and at that time Mycroft lacked the influence and foresight to obtain the medical records. Years later, he attempted to retrieve them, but there had been a fire and the records were destroyed. Mycroft knew that Sherlock still harbored resentment towards him because of it. Despite everything, Mycroft had no regrets. It was better to have his brother hate him than to bury him. Luckily, once Sherlock got clean he focused his never ending energy into learning both self taught and at university. He became fascinated with crime and had fallen into detective work. Now at the age of 24, he had finally become somewhat stable living and working with his partner Dr. John Watson. Mycroft would be damned if he let anything happen to Sherlock now.

Baskerville

Subject's 303 and 315 were both progressing nicely. The surgeries as well as other procedures and treatments were completed without complications. Initially the procedures and course of treatment had been identical for each of the subjects the only difference being the initial 2 month time gap however; after the two procedures coded Alpha and Beta were tolerated well by both subjects that is when the really tricky part came in. In order for the third and final procedures to work on each subject, certain conditions must be met. While the last procedures were different for each subject, they had to be completed simultaneously. Procedure Icarus was performed on subject 303, while procedure Luna was completed on Subject 315. These procedures required genetic splicing rather than surgery. The timing was critical, as it would serve as a control in the experiment. It had been two weeks since procedures Icarus and Luna were performed and the most recent chromosomal tests should radical changes to both of the subjects DNA. While their outward appearances showed no major changes yet their spliced DNA was spreading like wildfire. Soon there would be allowed to awaken from the chemically induced comas and major physical and mental changes should begin to appear. This is where the experimental theories would truly be put to the test.

Chapter 3

Scotland Yard

"Let me get this straight Mycroft you had an order direct from the prime minister with the approval of the crown to raid and shut down Baskerville." Greg Lestrade couldn't believe it. Baskerville was supposedly untouchable but Mycroft had the order in his hand and was ready to go with a squad of enforcement both from the yard and private sectors.

"Quite right Lestrade, I will be accompanying you during the raid. I have unfinished business with that facility." Mycroft said sharply. It was the only show of emotion he had seen Mycroft display since Sherlock went missing. Greg knew that there was bad blood between the siblings but always suspected that Mycroft cared more than he had initially let on.

"Since everything seems to be in order, I guess we'll be off." Lestrade said as he and Mycroft entered the squad car.

Baskerville

Mycroft grit his teeth as they continued to search the labyrinthine, which was Baskerville's restricted sector. The entire electrical system had shut down with the raid. So here he was with half of Scotland Yard manually searching the area with guns and torches raised. "This is going to take a while mate," Lastrade murmured.

"Gift for stating the obvious, Lestrade. I don't care how long it takes I want every inch of this place inspected." Mycroft said in a cold tone that left no room for argument.

The fog began to slowly lift from Sherlock's mind and he found himself in a place between asleep and awake reliving a memory from seventeen years ago like it was yesterday. "Be a good boy while I'm gone Sherlock. Mind Mother and Father." Mycroft kneeled down to hug him goodbye and Sherlock couldn't even get his arms completely around his brother at sixteen Mycroft towered over his frail six year old form. Mycroft squeezed him gently. "Je t'aime petit frère." Mycroft whispered kissing Sherlock's soft curls. The scene changed before his eyes as he was thrust into another memory, which he thought he had forgotten.

"Non maman, je ne veux pas aller a lecole que les autres enfants me demandent un monster." Sherlock cried as tears rolled down his cheeks. Mycroft was gone. Left to go to university. Father was dead. Mummy tried to smile but it wasn't real.

"Ma Cherie, tu dois aller." She murmured kissing his tears away.

Meanwhile, John was in his own fugue of memories as struggled to awaken from his own coma. "No John! I am n-not j-just like Da." Harry slurred as she stumbled into the car. John had to be up in to in two hours for exams for anatomy and organic chemistry. He was on scholarship in exchange for his enlistment in her majesty's army upon graduation. He needed to keep his grades up not only for that, but also to get into medical school. Their father had drunk himself to death; cirrhosis and hepatic encephalopathy. By the looks of it his sister was heading down the exact same path. Their mother had seen more death and violence in one lifetime one would think possible. His father had been a mean drunk and he had taken his anger out on his wife and children. John never understood why their mother stayed till the end. Love must truly be blind. John swore he would never end up like his father. Their mother would most likely loose another family member to alcohol if Harry kept this up.

He was then transported back to Afghanistan. "Incoming!" John yelled as he made his way to the injured soldiers on the battlefield the sounds of gunfire and mortar shells filled the air along with the screams of the wounded. He and his men had been ambushed by al-Qaida rebels in a supposed safe zone. John made his way to the wounded. Paradoxical breathing which was the hallmark of flail chest, the blunt trauma had caused the ribs to separate from the chest wall most likely also causing a pneumothorax as well. Even if John attempted a needle aspiration, without a chest tube it was a lost cause. Even with proper medical treatment, fail chest had a 50 percent mortality rate. John reluctantly moved on to another solider. Who was screaming and holding his right arm tight to his chest. "Let me see." John shouted. He pulled the extremity towards him and saw that the entire forearm was missing. He immediately put on a tourniquet to stop the bleeding. The limb was a goner and amputation was the only option. John was preparing to move the solider to a more secure location, when he felt the bullet tear through him. He cursed this war and he cursed himself as he saw the sand painted red with his blood and the blood of the other soldiers.

Mycroft turned down yet another corridor. The lab animals screeched at the intrusion. Mycroft brought the torch round the room and stopped when he saw two still figures in an isolation room. His heart began to gallop as he entered and realized that he had found both Sherlock and John. They both had been disconnected from the monitors and other medical equipment. The only things amiss were the saline locks in their hands and hospital gowns.

"Lestrade! In here!" Mycroft shouted. "Sherlock? John? Can you hear me?" Mycroft asked as he slowly approached his brother and Dr. Watson. Sherlock moaned as struggled to open his eyes. They fluttered opened for a second but quickly shut again. Sherlock's head began to pound. He thought he heard his brother or had that just been a dream? Nothing was clear. "Sherlock, open your eyes." Mycroft whispered. Sherlock felt a gentle stroke on his brow. Dream, had to be. He had been six the last time Mycroft and touched him like that.

"S'il vous plait ne me quitte pas Myc." Sherlock whispered in a voice hoarse from disuse. His eyes were still closed and he was still under the impression that he was dreaming.

Mycroft pulled his hand away in shock. He hadn't heard Sherlock speak French since before he went to university he always assumed that he had forgotten how. He also hadn't been called by his diminutive since he was a child himself. "Je ne pars pas. Open your eyes. Come on now." Mycroft encouraged gently. Lastrade made his way into the room and Mycroft held up a hand to silence him. _Found them_. He mouthed as not to confuse his disoriented brother. Lestrade gave a curt nod and waited silently in the corner of the room. Sherlock's eyes fluttered opened again and he began to blink rapidly as his eyes started to tear. Mycroft moved the torch away from his face to give his eyes a minute to adjust.

"Mycroft? Is that really you?" Sherlock rasped. Mycroft nodded sharply. Sherlock tried to lift his hand but realized he was restrained to the bed. Mycroft began to undo the restraints. "Where am I?" Sherlock asked once he was untied. His head still felt cloudy and he was unbelievably tired.

"Baskerville," Mycroft spit the word out with such malice that Sherlock was taken by surprise. Mycroft's head snapped over towards the sound of a moan nearby. Sherlock mimicked the gesture and John came into his line of sight.

"John! John wake up." Mycroft placed his finger gently to Sherlock's lips and shook his head.

"Don't startle him," he whispered. "He will wake up confused and disoriented like you. The last thing we need is to trigger a flashback." Sherlock certainly couldn't argue with that. John still had issues with residual PTSD. Mycroft made no move towards John. He just watched and waited silently. "I don't want to touch him until I know he's reoriented." Mycroft explained. Sherlock wanted to get up and go to John but was too weak to do so.

"Mycroft, help me up. He won't attack me. I'm sure of it." Sherlock said as he attempted to push himself out of bed. Mycroft helped Sherlock stand and slowly walked with him to John's bedside. "John? Can you hear me?" Sherlock inquired softly. Sherlock's hold on his brother's arms tightened as a wave of dizziness came over him. He closed his eyes and his other senses seemed to sharpen. He could hear Mycroft's pulse and respirations as well as the lab animals scurrying in the cages. He could also sense John's heartbeat and breathing as well as a third persons. He could smell Mycroft's cologne mixed with fear and sweat, which was faintly noticeable over the overwhelming smell of the lab animals. He could make out the slightly uneven grooves in the floor, as he stood barefoot on it. Sherlock opened his eyes again as the vertigo passed and identified the third person as DI Lestrade. "You brought official backup Myc." Sherlock murmured, unconsciously using Mycroft's childhood nickname, somewhat surprised that Scotland Yard had been involved and that Mycroft had not used only private contacts.

Mycroft sighed with a scoff. "Unavoidable in this case, unfortunately." He said with exasperation. Sherlock stopped as they reached John's bedside.

"John," he called out again in a soft soothing voice. John winced in his sleep and moaned. Sherlock surmised that he was likely amidst an unpleasant dream. John thought that he heard Sherlock calling to him amongst the battlefield chaos. But that couldn't be right; Sherlock didn't serve with him in Afghanistan. John opened his eyes, and as sounds of the battlefield faded, he was greeted by Sherlock in a hospital gown, clinging to Mycroft. I must still be dreaming. John slowly shook his head to try to clear it and quickly realized that it had been a mistake as the room swam before his eyes. He groaned as he regained his awareness of his body and all of the maladies he was suffering from: vertigo, nausea, muscle aches, abdominal pain, and generalized weakness, just to name a few.

"Sherlock? Mycroft?" John questioned as he pulled against his restraints in an attempt to move.

Mycroft turned his head and nodded to someone in the shadows of the dark room. As the figure came closer, John recognized Lestrade. "Lets get you untied." Lestrade said as he undid the restraints.

"What happened? Where are we?" John asked as he took in his surroundings.

"Baskerville, John." Sherlock answered. A flood of memories came crashing back with the mention of Baskerville. Sherlock's disappearance; John's search and capture. Then nothing.

"How long?" John asked as his stomach clenched at the thought of what had been done to both of them. The restricted sector of Baskerville had been a thing of nightmares. Animals as well as humans subjected to the researchers sick experiments. John had stumbled across a few subjects when he broke into Baskerville in search of Sherlock.

"You've been here a month; Sherlock longer." Mycroft said eyeing John warily. Both John and Sherlock seemed off but John had an undertone of potential violence that Mycroft could sense. The doctor's eyes shone slightly, looking more like an animals than a humans in the dark room.

"Ne vous inquietez pas se, il n'est pas dangereux." Sherlock murmured in Mycroft's ear sensing his tension regarding John. Mycroft's body tensed.

"Quelque chose ne va pas avec lui." Mycroft whispered as his grip tightened around Sherlock's arm. John frowned deeply. Sherlock smirked. He knew John's French was limited to bonjour and merci. He could sense John's irritation with both of them for not speaking English.

"I didn't know either of you spoke French," John said. He closed his eyes as a chill came over him. He could sense things that he shouldn't, all five of his senses were much more acute. He also felt restless. Almost as if something inside him was being restrained and wanted out. _Great now I've gone mad._ John thought. His eyes turned to Sherlock in assessment. He most likely was suffering from vertigo and weakness like John judging be his grip on Mycroft's arm. John could hear his pulse and respirations, which were both elevated, like his own. He would have to ask him about other anomalies but now was not the time for that. Not in front of Mycroft and Lestrade.

"The other yarders can complete the search Mycroft if you would prefer to stay with your brother and accompany him and Dr. Watson to the hospital." Lestrade suggested as he turned and eyed both Sherlock and Mycroft. Mycroft nodded his assent.

"I want them both transferred to my estate where a private physician can examine them." Mycroft ordered. John snorted and rolled his eyes but knew better than to argue with Mycroft at this point. Much as it pained him to admit it, Mycroft had saved both their lives and privacy was probably best until they knew exactly what had been done to them during their captivity.

Chapter 4

Holmes Estate, Sussex

The physician completed his notes, which were all on paper, nothing electronic was created, which could be hacked into and discovered. Mycroft sighed deeply. This was worse than anything that he imagined. Sherlock and John were furious at being kept in the dark, but Mycroft needed time to think and plan. They would have to be told soon, as more changes would most likely occur. They were already aware of heighten senses but that was just the tip of the iceberg and so much was still unknown. Both John and Sherlock had been changed on a genetic level. The changes to their DNA were still occurring at an alarming rate. Genetic splicing was used but they still were unable to pin point the exact origin of the spliced genes that were used on John and Sherlock. One thing was clear though the genetic changes in both of them were quite different.

Sherlock paced rapidly around the room. Mycroft! He was back to acting like a colossal git. Both he and John had a right to know what was done to them and what was happening to their bodies. Sherlock stopped as he constant pain between his shoulder blades increased. "Pain getting worse?" John asked. Sherlock bit back a scathing reply and simply nodded. The pain had started out mild but had begun to steadily increase as time passed. John got up from the chair, which he had been fidgeting in and gently palpated between his shoulders. Sherlock steeled himself as the pain increased. "Sherlock, I can feel a hard mass under the fascia. It feels calcified, like bone." John murmured sounding quite disturbed.

"I need to lay down John." Sherlock confessed as wave of vertigo overtook him. John helped him to the sofa. Sherlock then spread himself out prone and closed his eyes waiting for the dizziness to pass. Sherlock slowly opened his eyes to see John by his side. John looked almost as bad as Sherlock felt. His eyes were shining with an inhuman light and his agitation was clear. While not in pain, John was suffering from extreme restlessness. He described the feeling as 'something trying to crawl its way out from inside me,' which was making it extremely difficult for John to think clearly let alone analyze their situation. He had been removing various articles of clothing claiming they were too restrictive. The only thing still left on him were his pants, which Sherlock could tell he wanted to remove but still had enough modesty left to keep them on. As Sherlock looked him over, he noticed that John's muscle mass had increased dramatically. There was not a bit fat on him. He was tight and toned with a body which now belied his age. He didn't look at day over 25.

Sherlock's frame on the other hand had remained for the most part unchanged. He was still thin and lithe. The only obvious change to his frame being the painful mass between his shoulders. Mycroft knew more than he was letting on. Sherlock had to see those test results. Whatever was done to them was still having ongoing effects. Sherlock's eyes flicked to the well-hidden surveillance cameras. Mycroft had eyes everywhere. Sherlock was pulled from his thoughts as John groaned and began to violently pace around the room. "Have to get out of here." John said. His body was coiled and ready to snap. "I'm not right Sherlock. Dangerous. I'll hurt someone." John whispered clenching his fists in frustration.

"Don't be daft John. While you are capable of violence, I have never once had a concern that you would use it against anyone who was less than deserving." Sherlock said in what he hoped passed as a soothing voice. In truth, Sherlock was worried. John's control seemed to be slipping and he was only becoming more agitated as time passed. Sherlock was beginning to believe him when he claimed something was fighting for control. John shook his head and dashed from the room.

"John wait!" Sherlock shouted and struggled to get up as the pain increased. Sherlock heard scuffling outside. He opened the door just in time to see the physician pull the needle out of John's bicep, with Mycroft at his side, as Mycroft's security held John still. "Mycroft!" Sherlock shouted furious that they had resorted to sedating John. John's movements slowed as the sedative took effect. A stretcher materialized and John was placed onto it.

"I put it off for as long as possible Sherlock. You may not believe me but it was necessary. I may be forced to the same thing to you soon." Mycroft said in a tired voice.

Sherlock shook his head violently. "You do not always know what's best! I'm not a child anymore. You can't treat me without consent and the same is true for John." Sherlock practically spat his anger seething.

A pained looked flittered across Mycroft's face, but was quickly replaced with his normal cold efficiency. "I can and will do anything in my power to ensure safety for the both of you." Before Sherlock could reply, the pain spiked and he cried out crumbling to the floor curling into himself.

The physician approached after Mycroft nodded. He plunged a needle into Sherlock's arm. The last thing Sherlock heard before he lost consciousness was Mycroft whispering to him in French. "Pardonnez-moi frère. Je suis desole."

Mycroft paced nervously as the physician updated him. An x-ray had been repeated on Sherlock's back and shoulders. The mass was indeed a combination of bony structures, which resembled wings. The bones were forming and pushing against muscle and skin that is what had been causing Sherlock so much pain. They bony appendages were growing at an alarming rate and had already pierced through the muscular fascia. At this rate they would erupt through the skin and most likely continue to form and grow unimpeded. Sherlock's bone density had also dropped significantly. His bones were now nearly hollow and his lung capacity was greatly increased. "I wouldn't recommend trying to remove them until they have finished forming as they may regenerate if amputated too early. Additionally, there is a high risk of paralysis as they are growing directly from the spinal cord. Mycroft had the irrational urge to scream. Sherlock and John were both still heavily sedated.

Mycroft grit his teeth and asked. "What about John?"

The physician was silent for a moment before answering. "I can say for sure Dr. Watson seems to be on the brink of a major physiological change. Nothing grossly abnormal has shown up yet on x-ray but his vital signs and labs are completed off the charts. I wish I could offer you a more definite answer but I am at a loss." Mycroft frowned deeply. None of this was the slightest bit reassuring. "I recommend keeping them both heavily sedated for now." Mycroft nodded his assent reluctantly. I've put them in a prison with different walls. He thought guiltily.

Chapter 5

One week later

His private physician awaked Mycroft at around midnight. The light from the full moon shown through his bedroom window as he scrambled out of bed and quickly made his way to where Sherlock and John were being held. "There been a startling development involving Dr. Watson. We have moved him to a more secure holding area." The physician explained.

"Why would that be necessary if he is sedated?" Mycroft asked as he followed the doctor.

"You'll see." He replied evasively. The doctor opened the door to a private room surrounded by security. The bed was empty.

"Where is he?" Just as the words left his mouth; he saw it. A huge black wolf was asleep on the floor with a tranquilizer dart embedded in its side. "Bollocks." Mycroft murmured and stared in complete disbelief. Suddenly some of John's symptoms now made sense. The inhuman glow in his eyes. The complaints of something inside him trying to get out. Mycroft was at a loss as to what to do next.

"I highly suggest that you cage him and keep him sedated. For the short time that he was awake in this form Dr. Watson was aggressive and attempted to attack several of the staff. Luckily, we were able to sedate him quickly. I will need to draw more labs before I can even attempt to tell you more about this unexpected development." The physician advised.

"No cage, just keep him under." Mycroft said sharply. Sherlock would never forgive him if he put John in a cage even if he was now a wolf.

3 Days later

John screamed as his bones shifted and his body reformed itself to human. Even with sedation on board the pain was enough to break through it. Once the transformation was completed, John vomited. His nude body began to tremble in the cold room. Within two minutes, Mycroft and his nameless private physician entered the room. The doctor had a syringe in his hand which John was sure contained more sedatives. "Please no more drugs!" John begged in a voice hoarse from disuse. Mycroft held up a hand and the other doctor froze looking at him with questioning eyes.

"John, I sincerely regret being forced to sedate you, but if you can remember anything from the past 72 hours you should understand why it was necessary." Mycroft explained. John just stared in disbelief. The past 72 hours were almost completely blank save a few vague flashes during transformation. John suspected that that was more likely a result of the drugs than his altered "condition." John felt hot rage bubbling up inside him and it took every once of his self-control not to let it loose on both Mycroft and the doctor. The wolf was still close, right below the surface. Calm down John, he thought. Information is the most important thing right now. Play nice until you can get as much as possible.

John held Mycroft's gaze but stayed silent. As the silence stretched on John began to categorize his current physical and mental state with the limited information that he had. He senses were even more heighten then before the transformation. He was still restless but it was tolerable. The cause, which he now knew, was the wolf had been sated by its three days of freedom. While it was still just below the surface it was no longer fighting for control. John looked down at himself. His body showed no signs of the horrible trauma, which it had just been put through. In fact, He seemed to have grown taller and even more muscular. His genitals had also grown larger. His penis had increased significantly in both length and girth. His bollocks were heavy and full. In fact, heat was beginning to pool in his groin his penis grew even further, now half hard with arousal. Even though he was unsure of the cause, John wanted nothing more then to get off quickly but that wasn't going to happen with Mycroft and his physician staring at him like he was in a Petri dish. John shut his eyes tight and remembered all the horrible things that he had seen at Baskerville, which helped to slack his arousal quickly.

Mycroft was silent for a moment as if assessing how much to tell John. Once he seemed to make a decision he sighed deeply and began. "What is your name and place of birth? Where are you? What year is it?" John smirked at the questions.

"Capt. John H. Watson MD, London England, Holmes private estate, 2014." John Spat without patience. "Satisfied with my level of consciousness." John took a deep breath. In addition to everything else, he seemed to have developed quite the short fuse. As much as he loathed admitting it, he could understand Mycroft's misguided reasoning for all his actions. Before Mycroft could answer, John's stomach gave a loud roar and cramped with hunger. John tried to remember the last time he had eaten and couldn't because he had likely been sedated. God, John! Where is your modesty and civility he thought as remembered he was still completely nude. Just because you turned into animal doesn't mean that you always act like one. "I need some clothing." John added.

John sighed in satisfaction as he finished the huge meal. Mycroft had brought him clothing and told him that he stunk needed a shower and food. John couldn't deny it. John showered and dressed and a huge meal was waiting in his room when he came out which he quickly devoured. There was a note from Mycroft promising answers later. John wanted to go find him and get them now but a bone deep fatigue was quickly settling over him. He yawned and made his way to the bed. It almost felt strange to sleep naturally without the aid of sedatives. John drifted into a deep sleep filled with strange and mysterious dreams.

Chapter 6

Mycroft paced back and forth along his private study. He was at a total loss as to what to do about Dr. Watson who was completely alert and oriented. He seemed to have regained his self-control after he transformed back to his human form. He was now asking questions. Lots of questions, to which, Mycroft was still trying to answer for himself. Sherlock currently being weaned off the sedatives as the physical changes appeared to be complete. Sherlock now had a fully formed pair of brilliant white wings, spanning nearly sixteen feet across. Judging from their size and span as well as the other alterations in Sherlock's body, he should now be capable of flight. Mycroft had never dealt with a situation like this. He had both John and Sherlock's best interests in mind but didn't know how to proceed. Mycroft was pulled from his thoughts by the doctor's voice over his intercom. "Sherlock is about to awaken. I am notifying you as requested."

Mycroft quickly made his way to Sherlock's room. Sherlock was just beginning to stir. "Sherlock relax. You're safe." Mycroft said softly as he approached his brother. Sherlock's eyes opened and he began scanning the room silently making observations. He sat up and his wings opened wide knocking over the IV pump beside him.

"What in God's name did those bloody bastards do to me?" Sherlock exclaimed as he curled his wings around himself in order to examine them more closely. "This must have been what was causing all of my back pain." Sherlock then began stripping off all of the monitoring equipment. "I'm leaving Mycroft. Where is John?"

"Are you mad? You can't just leave Sherlock; you have a huge pair of wings that need to be dealt with. You will be just a bit conspicuous walking through London proper with those." Mycroft hissed raking a hand through his hair in frustration. Sherlock scoffed.

"Mycroft I don't care. I know longer need or want your concern. Let me go on my own accord or I will make your life very difficult." Sherlock said in a dark angry tone. "You are no longer my brother. You are dead to me." Mycroft paled.

"Sherlock, you're just angry. You don't mean that." Mycroft said in a strained voice.

"Yes I do Mycroft. I want you out of my life completely." Before Mycroft could answer Sherlock stormed out of the room in search of John.

"Aren't you going to stop him?" The doctor inquired. Mycroft shook his head.

"As much as I hate letting him go, if I want any chance at fixing this I need to give him time and space to calm down." Mycroft said with a small sigh. "Allow Dr. Watson to leave as well if he so chooses. I would rather Sherlock not be alone."

Sherlock quickly made his way down the long hall corridor. "John!" he called. Sherlock had never been so livid with Mycroft. Just when he thought his brother had a shred of humanity in him, he was again proven wrong. _Not like you to be so gullible._ He thought.

"Sherlock?" John's voice called from down the next hall. Sherlock followed it.

He knocked on the door before entering and saw John alone in the room, which was surprising considering the security that Mycroft usually employed. John stared at him; more likely at his newly formed wings, in awe seemingly struck speechless. John was larger and taller, nearly Sherlock's height, and more muscular. He also had an underlying musky scent that was hard to describe, but which Sherlock found to be arousing. He shook his head quickly as if to rid it of the strange thought. Sherlock had never had any true sexual arousal in response anyone, which was mostly likely due to his stay in the institution as a teenager. He continued to look John over. The restlessness was now gone and John looked like he was calm and in control. "Bloody hell Sherlock." John said softly as he slowly approached as if afraid of scaring him away.

"They are just wings John. No reason to gawk like a five year old child." Sherlock said somewhat sullenly. John flushed bright red with obvious embarrassment.

"Sorry," He stammered. "Bit of a shock that it is."

"Understandable," Sherlock begrudgingly admitted. "I suggest we leave before Mycroft changes his mind and attempts to stop us."

"Letting us go? Just like that?" John asked in disbelief.

"Oh I had to practically threaten his life and I also happen to know where a number of his skeletons are buried." Sherlock murmured darkly anger shimmering in his eyes. "Best be off to Baker Street." Sherlock then rushed out of the estate, grabbing a large trench coat to cover his wings with John hot on his heels.

221 B Baker Street

"Sherlock did you happen to come across any medical records or speak to Mycroft regarding any information regarding the procedures that were performed on us in Baskerville?" John asked as he shifted through the kitchen dumping Sherlock's now ruined experiments into the rubbish bin.

"Irrelevant." Sherlock stated with certainty. John scowled in obvious disbelief but allowed him to continue uninterrupted. "Mycroft did not speak with me regarding specifics and I was unable to obtain access to any records. However, I was able to deduce that there was genetic splicing involved. We will know more once we draw our own samples." John sighed.

"This is bad Sherlock. How are we supposed to deal with this and try to correct it if we're going in blind?" John asked with a groan as opened an exceptionally foul smelling experiment. John tossed it quickly and opened a window. His new heightened senses were proving to be a nuisance at the moment. Luckily, Mrs. Hudson was on holiday for the month, which would give both of them some time to straighten things out by themselves. "Why don't we go through the physical and mental changes that both of us have gone through. Take inventory so to speak." John suggested.

"Dull, John." Sherlock drooled. John huffed in frustration. He didn't seem to have the same patience for Sherlock's demeanor as he used to.

"Humor me!" John snapped. "Sorry, been a bit edgy lately." Sherlock stared at him saying nothing for a moment. John could only imagine the thoughts and deductions that must by flying through his head.

"Very well." Sherlock conceded. "My symptoms include heightening of all five senses. I don't have x-rays to confirm it but I believe my lung capacity has increased and my bone density decreased most likely to facilitate flight. I have obviously developed wings." Sherlock stopped unsure of whether or not to mention the arousing effect John's scent had been having on him. Right now the scent was barely noticeable over the stench of the kitchen but once it had been cleaned John's natural smell would be noticeable. The arousal was manageable though and the admission seemed wrong somehow. Sherlock thought it better to omit that information. While John was an attractive man, Sherlock had never felt anything sexual towards him or anyone for that matter. "That is all I can tell you without further testing." Sherlock concluded.

"I have heightened senses as well. I've gown taller and more muscular and I seemed to have turned back the clock. I look and feel nearly half my age. While I look normal now, something disturbing happened to me and I think it will likely happen again. I transformed into a wolf. I can't tell you much because I was heavily sedated the whole time but I stayed that way for three days. I can still feel its presence inside me but it's calm now. I think it becomes restless right before a change and that's why I was ready to jump out of my skin before they separated us at the estate. I also have developed quite a short temper so you'll have to excuse me if I don't have the patience that I used to." John explained. Sherlock was silently staring at him looking very perplexed indeed as if John may be trying to put him on. "That's all I've got for now."

_Wolf?_ Sherlock thought. _How?_ Visions of bad horror cinema assaulted him. Somehow though Sherlock knew John spoke the truth. They would get to the bottom of it somehow. Sherlock thought back and the yellow tinge to John's eyes made sense now. Sherlock doubted very much that John had been changed into a werewolf in the traditional sense of the word. His genes had no doubt been spliced with that of a wolf. "We'll get to the bottom of this John. I have no doubt." Sherlock affirmed with certainty. John looked like he still had doubts but remained silent.

Chapter 7

Greg Lestrade watched in shock as Mycroft Holmes stormed off the crime scene. Normally he never bothered to show up but this was a high-ranking official in the parliament. There were whispers of corruption and a mole set on international espionage. The case had Sherlock's name practically written all over it. Greg had the unfortunate thought to ask Mycroft if his brother would be consulting for the case. He had never seen Mycroft Holmes so angry. When Lestrade had brought up the subject of his brother, Mycroft's legendary control snapped. He had told Greg in no uncertain terms that Sherlock was no longer his concern and not to mention it again if he valued his career. Lestrade knew when to let something go and the subject had been dropped. Lestrade still wasn't giving up. He would find out what had become of Sherlock and John even without Mycroft's help but he had to be certain not to gain Mycroft's attention while making inquiries.

Mycroft Holmes was even more of a mystery to Greg than Sherlock. While Sherlock's oddball behavior could be explained somewhat by his mad genius, Mycroft was another story. Greg had no doubt that Mycroft's intelligence was nearly equal to that of his brother. What Mycroft lacked was Sherlock's deducing powers. While not as striking as his brother, Mycroft was still an attractive man. He was not nearly as lithe and slightly shorter than his brother but he had strikingly blue eyes, auburn hair, a strong jaw, as well as an air of authority that could bring even the toughest individual to their knees. Greg had been fighting his increasing attraction to the elder Holmes brother since he met him years ago. Lestrade had discreetly inquired about Mycroft's romantic life but came up empty. If Mycroft dated, he kept it quiet. Both he and Sherlock were never seen publicly dating anyone.

Lestrade shook his head and turned to look over the forensics. Apparently he would be on his own in this case. On a whim he pulled out his phone and rung Sherlock. "What?" Sherlock snapped over the line taking Greg by surprise who had not been expecting him to actually answer.

"Sherlock?" Greg asked in a shocked voice.

"Whom did you think you were calling Lestrade?" Sherlock answered in a condescending tone. Greg was too shocked to answer for moment but recovered quickly before Sherlock could hand up on him.

"I wanted to know what was going on with you and your brother and why you are no longer taking cases." Greg said deciding that the direct approach was the best way to go.

Sherlock sighed dramatically before answering. "My brother is a colossal git. Our personal differences are not your concern and neither are my reasons for halting my consulting services. It appears that you will have to earn your pay detective inspector." Sherlock said in a strained voice. Lestrade could tell there was a major story behind those words but he also knew when he had hit a dead end.

"What about John?" Lestrade asked attempting a change of subject. Sherlock huffed.

"You will have to speak with John personally if you want further information." Sherlock answered sounding quite stressed.

"Sherlock are you in trouble? Do you need help?" Greg asked as his concern increased. Rather than answer Sherlock simply hung up leaving Greg to worry. That settled it. Greg was definitely going to have to do some serious digging.

"I'm going to the office to research. I'll look over the reports there." Greg announced as he made his way back to Scotland Yard.

Once Greg was back in the office he began his search determined to get to the bottom of things.

Chapter 8

It had been three weeks since returning to Baker Street with John. Both Sherlock and John were attempting to adapt to the physical and mental changes, which were forced upon them at Baskerville. Sherlock looked around the empty flat. John had been picking up shifts at the A & E as well as at the surgery claiming that he needed the distraction. John had gone out after completing his shift at St. Bart's refusing to allow Sherlock to go with him. Sherlock surmised that he was most likely getting drunk. Sherlock sneered at the thought. While John had indulged in an occasional drink before Baskerville, he had never overindulged to the point of drunkenness, which was most likely due to the alcoholism that ran rampant through his family. John was going to have to learn a more appropriate coping mechanism. He claimed that alcohol helped calm him and the wolf. John had been drinking more and more as the full moon grew closer. With John's increased strength, speed and military training it was truly dangerous for him to drink in excess. When Sherlock had attempted to point this out to him, John had flushed with guilt, which quickly morphed into anger and frustration. John claimed that Sherlock didn't understand, as if Sherlock had not been dealing with the aftermath of Baskerville as well.

Sherlock unfurled his wings in frustration and stretched them out to their full 16-foot span. The urge to fly was becoming harder to ignore. Other changes were manifesting themselves as well. While Sherlock didn't have something fighting for control every day like John, but his body was controlling him in other ways. Sherlock was becoming more attracted to John. He also developed a healthy sex drive for the first time in his life. He had been reduced to masturbation. Whenever he attempted to abstain from the disgraceful activity; his body took matters into its own hands. He would dream about John and himself in the throws of passion and would wake up covered in his own semen. He was suffering from nocturnal emissions, as if he were a bloody hormone ridden teenager. Sherlock had tried to understand the logic of the increasing attraction to John from a biological standpoint but came up empty. They were both male; and if offspring were the biological goal that shouldn't be possible. Perhaps Sherlock was an even bigger freak than he had thought and could add homosexuality to his list of oddities.

Sherlock shook his head. Soon they would have to face reality. Staying in Baker Street in their current states was impractical and reckless. They needed to be somewhere less populated yet secure. Sherlock was pulled from his thoughts as a text from his phone came through. Sherlock picked it up and glanced at it. _Call your brother-Lestrade_. Sherlock ignored it with a snort. He still refused to speak to Mycroft. Although he had little doubt that his brother was keeping close tabs on both John and himself, which was another valid reason to relocate somewhere isolated away from his prying eyes. Visions of the French countryside quickly came to mind. There were areas in France that were still rural and sparsely populated. Moving out of England would also make it much more difficult for Mycroft to spy on both of them. Convincing John may prove difficult however. Sherlock sighed. John's change was coming quickly. The full moon was less than a week away. They needed to make a plan so that he would not be danger to himself or others. Sherlock put on his trench coat to cover his wings and went in search of the doctor before he drank himself into oblivion.

"Another round." John called to the bartender who nodded in acknowledgement, but was currently taking another order. The pub was busy and service was slow. It would have been quicker to drink at home but not necessarily easier. Sherlock disapproved and would give him hell for it. The sad part was John knew that he was right. Drinking was the last thing that he should be doing but it was the only thing besides sedatives that would keep the damn wolf quiet. He expended so much energy trying to control it lately as the full moon drew nearer during work that he was exhausted by the time he got off. He just wanted peace and drinking was a quick and easy way to get it.

"John come with me back to the flat we need to talk." Sherlock said as he strode through the pub entrance and sat down besides John. John frowned but said nothing as he finished his drink trying unsuccessfully to get the bartenders attention. Sherlock touched his shoulder giving him a gentle nudge towards the exit. John stiffened and ignored him snapping his fingers at the bartender. "John this behavior is idiotic, it is time to go home."

"Leave me alone Sherlock." John warned in a low voice that sounded more like a growl. The wolf was close. John closed his eyes and fought for control. He was so tired of fighting to control it. He just wanted to sleep. John often dreaded what would happen if he just stopped and let the wolf have it. Would he transform outside of the full moon or would he stay human but become feral and violent? He wanted to scream in frustration. As if sensing his mounting tension, Sherlock backed away slightly giving him some room.

"John, Please, you shouldn't stay here it's not safe." Sherlock said softly. John didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He felt like a ball of nerves that just couldn't unwind. "You can have a drink at home it you wish just come with me now." Sherlock implored. John didn't know whether the offer was sincere or simply a false bribe to get him to leave but John was beyond caring at this point barely in control he followed Sherlock as he hailed a cab back to Baker Street.

Chapter 9

Sherlock watched as John grabbed the whiskey bottle and poured himself a drink that he downed in one quick gulp. "John wait!" Sherlock said as John poured himself another. "Give it a minute. Breathe and try to relax before you have another." Sherlock said softly careful to keep the tension out of his voice. "I really do have to talk to you." John seemed to take his advice. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"What is it Sherlock?" John asked in a voice that was still far from steady.

"The full moon is coming." Sherlock stated and John just winced in response taking a sip from his second drink.

"Sherlock I thought you were above stating the obvious." John replied attempting for levity, which clearly fell flat.

"We need a plan John. You will most likely go through another transformation and we need to be prepared. I need your input on what you think would be the safest way to get through the full moon." Sherlock stated looking to John.

John looked lost. He simply looked down at his drink and sighed. "Sedate me," Hw whispered in a hoarse voice. Sherlock frowned deeply.

"But John I thought you didn't want to be sedated." Sherlock asked in confusion.

"I don't but the only other alternative is took restrain or cage me somehow and I think that would be much more traumatic than sedation." John explained in a sad voice.

"How do you know?" Sherlock asked. John frowned in obvious confusion. "I mean you were sedated throughout the entire transformation the first time. Do you recall whether you retained human thoughts or memories or whether you could exert any control over the wolf while you were in that form?" Sherlock explained.

"Are you suggesting that we do nothing and see how it goes once I transform?" John asked in obvious shock. "Do you have a death wish?"

"I am merely suggesting that if we have a secure location, sedation may not be necessary and by that I do not mean a cage. I must concur that a cage would be cruel and cause both you and the wolf undue stress." Sherlock said quickly attempting to further explain himself before John became more agitated and resorted to drinking again.

"Ok Sherlock, I'll bite." John said with a smirk as the irony of the words dawned on him. "Just where were you planning on keeping me "secure" during the three day transformation without sedation?"

"London Zoo." Sherlock said.

"Are you mad?" John asked. "You realize that it is opened to the public! Not to mention the fact that I would be caged. Granted it would be large and more of an enclosure, but still a cage. Oh, and don't forget about the other wild animals which I would be sharing it with! This has to be by far the dumbest idea that you have ever come with."

"Think about it John, we break in at dusk right after closing the first night of the full moon. We choose the safest enclosure for you to transform in and allow it to happen without sedatives. You will remain in wolf form for three days during the full moon and will go unnoticed by the public during the day because they will assume you are just an ordinary wolf. When you transform back to human, we will leave in the same manner that we came." Sherlock quickly clarified. John stared in blatant disbelief.

"I can't believe you are advocating this!" John yelled pouring himself another drink.

"Do you have a better alternative John?" Sherlock asked. "Should be continue to drug you into oblivion once a month? Eventually you will develop a tolerance and more than likely an addiction, although you seem to be well on your way to becoming a full blown alcoholic like your sister." John was furious with both himself and Sherlock. He was truly at a loss.

"You want me to go along with this outrageous plan? Fine. What have I got to lose?" John said sadly. His nerves were completely shot. He finished his drink with a deep sigh.

Chapter 10

John watched as the full moon rose and braced for the transformation. He had just eaten a large meal at Sherlock's insistence and against his better judgment about an hour ago. "John, I would rather you have a full stomach so that you do not transform into a ravenous wolf but rather a satiated one." Sherlock had claimed as John had eaten the exceptionally large meal. John could see the logic but just hoped he wouldn't end up vomiting everything up during his transformation. He looked around the enclosure. The other three wolves were huddled in the corner almost as if they could sense what was about to take place. Surprisingly, the wolves didn't concern John. His wolf was coming to the surface and it was Alpha. Even if he retained no awareness or control, his wolf would keep both of them alive. The pain shot through him and he screamed as this body reshaped itself and he blacked out.

Sherlock watched John closely from the roof of the enclosure. This was the first time that Sherlock had witnessed John's transformation. The sight was truly horrific. Sherlock could hear the bones snap and hear John's screams that turned to whines and finally silence once he lost consciousness. It was then that Sherlock got his first glimpse of John's wolf. Solid black, pure muscle and nearly twice as large as the natural wolves, which were still huddled in the corner in the enclosure, obviously terrified of the John's wolf. Sherlock spread his wings and flew towards John. He hovered about ten feet above him keeping a safe distance. "John." He called softly. There was no response. Sherlock flew back up to his perch on the roof to keep a silent vigil.

The wolf awoke to a cacophony of sounds and smells. It began exploring its surroundings. There were three wolves huddled together in the farthest corner from it. All three were displaying submissive body language. John's wolf ignored them since they showed no obvious threat. It scented the air sensing something vaguely familiar. The scent that came from upwind was one that the wolf knew yet could not place. The large golden eyes scanned the area for the source if the strange and alluring smell. The wolf settled on the form perched on the roof. The winged human looked directly at him and asked. "Do you recognize me John? Are you still aware?"

The wolf continued to stare at Sherlock making no obvious acknowledgement of understanding. Sherlock debated the safety of coming closer at this point. While the wolf was not acting vicious that could change in an instant if it perceived a threat. The wolf did seem interested in him as it continued to scent the air and stare at him. There was no fear or aggression in its demeanor merely curiosity. Making a decision that he hoped he would not live to regret, Sherlock flew down to more closely examine the wolf that John Watson had become.

Sherlock landed in the enclosure about ten feet from John's wolf. He kneeled down and kept his eyes down to show his submission in the hopes that the wolf would not see him a threat. It was obviously not completely feral or it would have attacked the other natural wolves that were cowering submissively in the corner of the enclosure. The wolf began to slowly approach him still scenting. Sherlock was faced with decision of backing up or standing his ground. "John I am not going to hurt you. I am not a threat." Sherlock said in a low calm voice. He stayed perfectly still to avoid startling the wolf.

The wolf was soon upon him. Sherlock avoided eye contact as the huge muzzle sniffed his hair and face. The wolf continued to scent moving over Sherlock's body it moved down his chest to his stomach. It then nudged its muzzle between his thighs and scented his groin deeply. "John must you act in such a stereotypical manner? What is it with canines and crotches?" Sherlock asked softly trying to carefully inch away from John who was still sniffing his genitals through his trousers enthusiastically. John followed him as he attempted to inch away. The wolf began to tug at the fabric of his trousers the seam split easily and Sherlock could hardly believe that those razor sharp canines were millimeters from his genitals. Sherlock let out a very uncouth yelp and reared back as the cold nose slipped through the front of his boxers to touch his penis and bollocks. "John Stop!" Sherlock said firmly and unfurled his wings, which had been tightly folded preparing to flee. To Sherlock's surprise, the wolf pulled away but continued staring intently at him. "Can you understand me John?" Sherlock asked as he finally met the wolf's golden stare briefly, quickly looking down. The wolf growled softly but quieted when Sherlock averted his eyes. The wolf approached Sherlock quickly lifting his leg and urinating on him before he could move away. Sherlock unfurled his wings and flew about twenty feet above John. "John that was disgusting and uncalled for!"

The wolf watched anxiously as the winged human hovered above him just out of reach. It smelled good. Mine. Mate. The wolf was gratified that at least it had been able to mark the human. The wolf had also had an opportunity to memorize the winged humans scent and would be able to track it over very long distances. John's wolf watched the winged human fly away. Its howl filled the air Sherlock disappeared from sight. Sherlock glanced back at John's wolf in disbelief unsure what to make of the entire bizarre episode. Sherlock flew back to Baker Street to shower then he would visit the zoo in the morning to check on John.


	2. Part II Chapter 11-14

Chapter 11

3 months later

Sherlock moaned as John increased the speed and force his thrusts, which hit his prostate at just the right angle. Sherlock lay prone with his wings unfurled as John held his hips in place with bruising force as he took him from behind. Sherlock had lost track of the number of times he had climaxed. Time blended into itself. How much longer would it last this time? Sherlock thought as he felt the rush of warmth pool inside him as John climaxed. John's libido was at its peak right after his transformation. It caused a shift in hormones that essentially sent him into an almost animalistic rut. For the past three months, it had been the same. John would transform back to his human form and they would engage in a sexual marathon that would last any where from 12-24 hours. Sherlock tried to estimate how much longer this episode would last. While pleasurable, John was not nearly as gentle as he should be. Sherlock was surprised that he had not suffered any serious injuries yet as a result of the rough handling. Between his hollow bones and fragile frame and John's superior strength the experience always left Sherlock exhausted and sore for days afterward.

The first time had been terrifying for both of them. John and Sherlock had slipped undetected out of London Zoo after the transformation. Sherlock's plan, while far from perfect, had worked. They had barely made it to Baker Street when it started. John had begun to pace and become agitated which both he and Sherlock found to be strange because John's wolf should be at it calmest right after a shift and John should be in nearly complete control over his thoughts and actions. John, however, had been confused by the sudden sexual attraction to Sherlock and the nearly insatiable lust that quickly overcame him. Sherlock could clearly remember the arousal mixed with fear and confusion, which had been etched in John's features. John had initially attempted to deny his body's demands. This quickly led to chaos as John's eyes turned golden mirroring John's lupine form. Sherlock had never been more terrified in his life as he watched John slowly lose the struggle for control over his mind and body. John shook, covered in sweat, fists clenched and breathing ragged. "Sherlock, go, I can't hold on much longer." John had ground out in a voice that sounded more animal than human.

"What's happening John? Tell me what you need." Sherlock asked. It seemed fairly clear, however, that John's wolf exerting control over John's thoughts and actions even though John was still in human form.

"You! Want You! Need you! Mine! Mate!" John growled as he shook, wound tight ready to spring at any moment. Although Sherlock had sexual feelings for John and wanted him, John's lack of conscious choice was disturbing. Was he simply following his biological urge or was there genuine affection behind it? Sherlock was unsure which would be worse to flee and leave John alone in such a state with no idea how long this behavior would last, or to allow John to have what he needed and hope that be giving in to his body's demand it would put at stop to the wolf's control. Sherlock closed his eyes and swallowed the lump, which had formed in his throat. He would not abandon John. He just prayed that John wouldn't seriously injure him.

"John, I won't leave you. Take what you need. I give it freely. All I ask is that you try to be gentle as I've never before engaged in intercourse." Sherlock said softly in a low calm voice hoping that John still had enough presence of mind to understand his words.

Those words were all it took and John sprung forward pulling Sherlock into a bruising kiss and stripping them both of their clothing in the middle of the flat. "Easy, John." Sherlock said in attempt to calm John as he came of for air from the kiss his head swimming with arousal." John had paused and taken a few deep breaths but quickly resumed the kiss lifting Sherlock at the waist and carrying him into the bedroom.

After the frenzy of that first rut together had past, which had been traumatic for Sherlock due to his lack of sexual experience. While John had been gentler than Sherlock had expected despite the wolf's obvious control, Sherlock could not help but feel somewhat used. John had been consumed by guilt afterwards. Sherlock confessed to John about his growing attraction towards him to try to ease his distress. John had been surprised and somewhat flattered. While he admired and respected Sherlock, he had never thought of him in a sexual way before. Presently, John was still adjusting to his biological rhythms and sexuality after Baskerville. He had come to terms with the fact that he was attracted to Sherlock even outside of rut. They had had sex outside of rut twice and Sherlock had enjoyed it immensely. John was a kind and considerate lover when he was not overtaken by the hormonal surges brought on by rut. Unfortunately, John's libido dropped considerably outside of rut and Sherlock was lucky if he could coax John to make love normally once a month.

Sherlock sighed as John pulled out of him and fell into a deep sleep. It was done. Sherlock gingerly turned onto his back and brought his wings around his body to inspect for damage. There was nothing catastrophic, only a few missing feathers. Sherlock closed his eyes completely exhausted but quickly opened them again as a wave of vertigo overtook him. He carefully got up to get some water. If he were not so exhausted he would make himself some tea, which helped settle his sensitive stomach. Sherlock drank the water and winced as his stomach cramped. Over the past few weeks, Sherlock had been suffering from intermittent nausea, lack of appetite and dizziness. He had yet to tell John about it writing it off as the flu at first. He was beginning to doubt the validity of that diagnosis. If it didn't improve soon he would be forced to tell John. He had lost nearly a stone and could not afford to loose much more.

Sherlock turned as his phone buzzed with a text. _This stalemate must come to an end-MH_. Sherlock ignored it. He really needed to look into relocating. Mycroft had become even more obsessed with spying on both he and John over the past three months. It was pure luck that their monthly break-ins to London Zoo were still going undetected. Sherlock was pulled from his thoughts as he heard footsteps on the stairway and moving towards the flat. "Sherlock! Open the door or I will have half of Scotland Yard here and will break it down. I have the influence to make it happen and by ignoring me you have left me no other choice." Mycroft ordered from outside.

Sherlock could feel his blood pressure rising as he realized that Mycroft was most likely serious about that threat and would make it a reality. "Give me a moment you inconsiderate arse." Sherlock called as he moved into the bedroom to finish dressing in haste. He glanced at John who was still in a deep sleep. "John! Wake up we have a very unwelcome guest who refuses to leave until I let him in." John groaned and squinted at Sherlock still half asleep.

"What? Who?" John murmured making no effort to leave the bed. He was still nude covered only by the bedspread.

"John dress now. It's Mycroft and he will force entry if I refuse his request."

"Bloody hell!" John snapped and got up and quickly made his way to the closet to dress. "I swear that man has the worst timing imaginable if he had come one hour earlier he sure would have gotten an eyeful." Sherlock chuckled at the mere thought. Mycroft would have most likely would have died of shock. Shame he had missed it.

Once dressed, Sherlock made his way to the entryway and opened the door laying eyes on his brother for the first time in three months. He quickly took in Mycroft's haggard appearance. Dark shadows under the eyes due to lack of sleep. There were now a few sliver strands of hair around the temples likely due to stress. Weight loss, which was surprising, in that Mycroft tended to overeat when stressed and gain weight rather than lose it and finally development of a slight tremor in both hands most likely due to the three espressos which he consumed this morning to combat fatigue due to the insomnia which now plagued him.

"You look like shite." John announced rather bluntly from behind Sherlock as Mycroft entered the flat. "When's the last time you slept?" John asked, as looked over him with his trained physicians eye and was most likely making similar deductions based on Mycroft's appearance.

"Pleasure to see you too, Dr. Watson." Mycroft said with a deep sigh. "Sherlock if you had answered any of my repeated attempts to contact you I would not have been forced to come unannounced at an inopportune time." Sherlock's sole reply was a snort. "While you don't look quite as bad as I must, you look rather exhausted yourself." Mycroft pointed out. You'd be tired too if you spent the last eighteen hours getting buggered. Sherlock mused but kept the thought to himself.

"To what do we owe the pleasure of this unannounced visit Mycroft?" Sherlock inquired with sarcasm lacing every word.

"Je suis inquiet pour vous frère. Vous n'aurez pas de me parler et m'a laisse dans le noir. Je suis desole, mais je n'ai fait que ce que je pensais que je devais." Mycroft whispered obviously sincere in his words. Sherlock grit his teeth.

"S'il vous plait parler en anglais parce que John ne peut pas francias et it est impoli de parler devant lui." Sherlock replied.

"My apologies Dr. Watson. I was expressing my concern for Sherlock and apologizing for my actions regarding both of you." Mycroft explained to John. His tremor seemed to be getting more pronounced as the conversation went on.

John watched the interaction between the two brothers closely. The tension was palpable. As much as John disliked Mycroft's methods, it was obvious that the apology was sincere and his actions clearly weighed heavily on him as evidenced by his haggard appearance. John had asked Sherlock what exactly had gone on while had been sedated at the Holmes estate which seemed to have been the breaking point in their strained relationship but Sherlock refused to give specifics only stating that Mycroft had finally dug himself into a hole so deep that even he couldn't climb out of it. John found it hard to judge the situation without all the facts but based on what he did see he thought Sherlock was being stubborn. John was willing to forgive (but not forget) especially with the sincere regret that Mycroft was feeling. "Sit down, Mycroft." John said with a gesture towards the sofa. Mycroft did so with a small nod of thanks.

"Mycroft I have heard your apology. You are now free to leave." Sherlock said as he made his way to the lavatory. John sighed. Sometimes he thought that The Holmes family dynamics were even more dysfunctional than his own and that was saying a lot.

"Mycroft, what the hell happened? I know you all had a somewhat strained relationship before Baskerville, but something pushed both of you over the edge. I was sedated so I missed the falling out care to fill me in? Sherlock refuses to give my specifics only making evasive comments." John explained. Mycroft looked down at his feet guiltily a slight blush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks for a moment. John would have smirked at the thought of Mycroft Holmes blushing but this was not a time for levity whatever had happened was obviously serious enough to have major repercussions for both of the Holmes brothers.

"I suspect the falling out as you call was due to combination of past and present factors. I would rather leave the past buried, but in order to understand Sherlock's current state I must give you some background. As you can imagine, Sherlock was far from a typical child. His intelligence was always superior and as a result he was somewhat alienated by his peers. He was always impatient and full of excess energy. By the time he was six years old, I had left for university and that same year our father died. Mummy was grief stricken and did her best but as Sherlock hit adolescence he became rebellious. He started abusing drugs. When mummy discovered this it was decided to institutionalize him for drug addiction treatment. Of course, Sherlock wanted no part of it and was involuntarily committed. He was there for a little over a year. When he came back mummy insisted that something was wrong. Sherlock, while always eccentric, was acting even more oddly. We asked him what had happened and what was wrong but he refused to tell us. To this day, I have no idea. If you want more information, you'll have to go to Sherlock. I think the fact that I essential forced treatment on both of you, regardless of the need for it, was a major part of Sherlock's anger and was fueled by past resentment during adolescence. Although, with Sherlock, one can never truly be certain of anything." Mycroft explained looking exhausted. "You must understand that everything which I have done was done for Sherlock's own good. He, of course, doesn't see it like that."

John would have to talk to Sherlock but doubted that he would have much more luck than Mycroft. When Sherlock dug his heels in about something, it was like pulling teeth to get information out of him. Sherlock returned from the lavatory. "Mycroft, still here I see." Sherlock sneered.

"Sherlock," John implored. "Can you at least try to be civil?"

"John, this is civil. I would think that you would realize that." Sherlock stated plainly while still glaring at Mycroft.

"Mycroft would you care for some tea?" John asked unsure how to ease the tension. Mycroft simply nodded. John looked briefly at Sherlock to see if he would take the hint. When he stood his ground, John reluctantly got up to make it leaving the brothers alone.

"Do you never tire of these games Mycroft?" Sherlock hissed. "Leave us be." Mycroft looked his brother over critically. He was even thinner than he remembered, borderline emaciated. He was also moving gingerly as if in pain. There were dark circles under his eyes. He did not look in good health.

"You haven't been taking care of yourself. I'm surprised that Dr. Watson has allowed it to go this far. Although, I know you to be extremely stubborn at times." Mycroft said. He wanted to force Sherlock to have a physical and blood work, but he knew the mere suggestion would cause a battle of epic proportions. Perhaps he could suggest to John that he should perform a physical on Sherlock. He would no doubt be more apt at convincing Sherlock than Mycroft ever could be. Mycroft had to tread carefully. Sherlock and John were no longer fully human. The baseline information, which was collected by his private physician in Baskerville, was not reassuring. More data was needed.

Mycroft was pulled from his thoughts as John came back with tea. Mycroft took the opportunity to look the doctor over. John seemed to be fairing much better than Sherlock. He looked fit and healthy. Mycroft was still in awe of the changes to his human form. The increase in height, muscle mass, and the apparent anti-aging affects were astounding. Additionally, John seemed calm and in control, which was a definite improvement from the last time that Mycroft had seen him. Mycroft still wondered how they were handling the transformations. John handed Sherlock a cup, which he took with a sigh as he sat down on the sofa. Sherlock winced slightly as he took a cautious sip. John frowned apparently noticing Sherlock's discomfort.

"Are you ok?" John asked softly in a voice that seemed quite intimate. Mycroft narrowed his eyes at the both of them. Something was amiss and he was determined to find out what it was. Sherlock nodded flushing slightly but continued to glare at Mycroft.

"Dr. Watson, have you noticed my brothers haggard appearance?" Mycroft asked bluntly. Might as well voice all of his concerns at once rather than going behind Sherlock's back and talking to John which would anger Sherlock even more. John frowned deeply looking Sherlock over slowly. His eyes then shifted to Mycroft.

"You're one to talk. Pot. Kettle." John stated. That confirmed it for Mycroft. John Watson was anything but evasive. They were both hiding something.

"I know there is something's off about both of you. I want to know what it is." Mycroft insisted.

"Surely, the genetic alterations are quite apparent." Sherlock said drolly.

"You know that's not what I meant Sherlock. Don't be deliberately obtuse." Mycroft said struggling to stay calm. "What. Is. Going. On." John glanced briefly at Sherlock who quickly shook his head. John shrugged.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean Mycroft." John said without hesitation. Mycroft grit his teeth. He took a deep breath. Empty threats would do no good. Although Mycroft was capable of holding them both in custody, to actually do so would destroy any possibility of peace between them irrevocably. That was a step, which Mycroft was not yet willing to take. He decided to change his approach.

"I am concerned for both of you. Sherlock you look unwell. Please tell me what is going on." Mycroft said softly.

"You needn't concern yourself with my health anymore Mycroft." Sherlock snapped. John looked down at his feet and bit his lip. He wanted to talk Mycroft could tell but he was holding his tongue because of Sherlock.

Mycroft decided that this was going nowhere. He would have to try to obtain information from other sources. "If either of you change your minds and want to talk let me know." Mycroft said as he let himself out. This wasn't over yet. Sherlock may have won this battle but he wouldn't win the war.

Chapter 12

John was awakened to the soft clear tones of Sherlock's violin. The melody was complex with different counterpoints blending together throughout. It had a haunting melancholy quality. John didn't recognize the composer but he could tell that it must take considerable talent to perform such a complex piece. John made his way into the living room where Sherlock was playing. "Sorry to wake you," Sherlock said softly halting the beautiful music and putting the violin and bow down to rest in his lap.

"Don't stop on my account. I hardly ever get to hear you truly play. That was beautiful. Who is the composer?" John asked as he sat down besides Sherlock putting an arm around him and gently nuzzling the crook of his neck. Sherlock sighed.

"I composed that piece when I was fourteen." Sherlock murmured closing his eyes and stroking John's short locks. "I owe a debt to this instrument it is the only thing that kept me sane that year." John looked up and met Sherlock's eyes.

"Do you want to talk about it?" John asked cautiously. He took Sherlock's hand gently caressing his wrist.

"No John. I don't want to talk about. I wish to delete it forever from my memory but I owe you an explanation. NOT MYCROFT! You and only you; Do you understand?" Sherlock asked with a slight tremor in his voice.

"Of course Sherlock, I would never betray your trust and I don't discuss the personal matters of others without permission." John said slightly offended that Sherlock had even asked.

"I know that Mycroft gave you information on my background today but Mycroft is not as all knowing as he thinks he is." Sherlock got up and carefully but the violin and bow away in the case. He came back and lay down on the sofa putting his head in John's lap. John gently ran his fingers through Sherlock's soft curls. Sherlock closed his eyes. John waited patiently. Sherlock had to do this on his own terms when he was ready.

"You must understand John. What it was like for me as a child. My parents loved me but I terrified them. While Mycroft was highly intelligent, I was beyond that, far beyond that. By the age of two, I could read and write in two languages. By three, I was completing complex mathematical equations. I could always deduce. My mind was constantly occupied. There was unlimited data, which I soaked up like a sponge. The one thing that seemed to elude me, however, was social mores. I didn't understand. If I had learned to act normally and hide my freakish intelligence, perhaps things would have turned out much differently, but I was outspoken and opinionated and corrected people when they were wrong; whether they were children or adults. This, as you can imagine, led to constant conflict: conflict with peers; conflict with instructors; and even conflict within my own family.

By adolescence, my thoughts were out of control and I couldn't focus. I was bored. There was never enough data, never enough stimuli. I had in most cases surpassed all of my instructor's knowledge and was forced into classes below my level. I had to do something. I chose to numb my thoughts with drugs. I took cocaine. The drugs calmed me. They made it tolerable, but it came with a cost. Mummy found out. She became hysterical. She had me institutionalized for psychiatric and drug addiction treatment. The detox was terrible but it would be the least of my worries. There was a psychiatrist there." Sherlock paused taking a deep breath. A single tear slid down his cheek. John suddenly had an awful feeling as to where this story would lead. He gently stroked Sherlock's cheek and kissed his forehead.

"It's ok. Go on." John murmured stroking Sherlock's hair.

"He did things. Terrible things. He prescribed medications that made me feel detached. Completely and utterly detached. I didn't fight. I should have done something. I knew it was wrong but I just didn't seem to care. It was like I couldn't feel. I could barely summon the will to get out of bed and feed and dress myself. It started with touching. I don't know how long it went on before it went further. It finally stopped when he tried to penetrate me. It hurt. Even with all of the drugs fogging my senses, I screamed. Then I fought. He signed my discharge papers the next day. I never told anyone that." Sherlock said in a ragged voice. "I'm so ashamed."

John had never felt such rage. He could feel the wolf's anger too, which confused him. He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. He would be no good to Sherlock if he were furious. Sherlock needed kindness and understanding right now not misplaced anger. "Sherlock I need you to listen to me. IT WAS NOT YOUR FAULT! You were a child and terribly betrayed by someone who was supposed to help you. There is nothing wrong with you. You are not a freak. Do you hear me? Do you understand?" John asked his eyes burning with unshed tears for the lost child that Sherlock had been and for the adult who still carried the undeserved burden of guilt. "Come here." John said as he pulled Sherlock carefully into his arms. Sherlock started to tremble and sob softly in John's arms as years repressed emotion made its way to the surface. "It's Ok love, let it all out. I've got you." John said as he carefully stroked between Sherlock's wings. Sherlock burrowed into him and held tight rocking slightly.

John just held him. John lost track of how long the stayed that way. Eventually the movements stopped and so did the muffled sobs, which were replaced by steady breathing that was somewhat congested, likely from prolonged crying. John looked at the man asleep in his arms. His eyes were red and puffy. Tear streaks marred his cheeks. John sighed and kissed his soft curls. He carefully laid him supine on the sofa. He took the opportunity to truly assess him without waking him. John could see what Mycroft had meant by haggard appearance. Sherlock while always thin and lithe was now gaunt. He had lost weight in the past month or so. There were dark circles around his eyes and be looked even more pale than usual. John flushed with guilt for not noticing sooner. It was then compounded with the guilt of his bloody rut. He was sure that if he looked on Sherlock's hips there would be bruising. There were also a few missing feathers from his beautiful wings. John cursed his bloody wolf. Suddenly John felt a strong sense of remorse that was not his own. He felt a chill run up his spine. This was the first time which he felt anything from the wolf besides aggression. He was remembering a little bit more after each shift. Nothing concrete, but he was slowly gaining awareness in wolf form. He was beginning to realize that it was probably the same for the wolf. John shuddered unsure what to make of these changes. "Easy John, you can figure it out in the morning." John said softly to himself. He would have a hell of a time convincing Sherlock but he needed to perform a proper physical on him and see what was going on.

One week later

Sherlock groaned in relief as he emptied his bladder. He made a note to reduce his fluid intake. This was the third time he had urinated and it was only noon. At least he hadn't vomited this morning. The nausea was still present intermittently but that had been the worst of it. He also noted that his urine smelled slightly off. There was a faintly sweet smell that had not been there before. Then again his entire body chemistry seemed off. Sherlock could sense a subtle shift in his pheromones. He smelled different. Not bad, just different. John had been trying for the entire week to convince him to allow him to complete a proper physical. Sherlock had finally agreed to allow it tonight after John came off shift at the surgery. Sherlock was dreading it. While he trusted John completely, he still had phobias regarding medical procedures. Oh, how he loved his strong kind John. Sherlock now knew that he had been in love with John Watson for a very long time; He just hadn't realized it. Sherlock remembered when he first deduced John Watson. The moment he said amazing rather than piss off the love had started and continued to grow. John was the only person who accepted Sherlock as he was and he loved him for that. It wasn't until after Baskerville, however, that that love had changed from platonic to something more; something that Sherlock had never felt before. Physical attraction. Lust. Looking back Sherlock wished he had more courage and confessed his feelings before John had shifted, after leaving Mycroft's Estate and perhaps then their first time would not have been so traumatic for both of them. Perhaps after tolerating that dreadful physical, he could convince John to take him to bed.

Sherlock yawned. He was always tired and although he was plagued with nausea for the past week his appetite had increased. He hated to admit that John was right. But there was something wrong with him. Sherlock tried not to think of all the possibilities that could be causing his symptoms. That would be John's job. Sherlock decided to try and take a nap as he lay down on the sofa. Sherlock awoke to the sound of John coming through the front door. "How are you feeling?" John asked.

"Satisfactory." Sherlock said with a sigh. John brought his medical bag over to Sherlock.

"You ready?" John asked as he pulled out the stethoscope and blood pressure cuff. Sherlock nodded. "Take off your shirt." John said. Sherlock smirked. John winked.

"Whatever you say Dr. Watson." Sherlock drawled taking his shirt off.

"Ok Sherlock. Enough teasing," John said with a laugh. "This is serious. Typically we look, listen and then feel." John looked Sherlock over with a critical clinicians eye. John pulled down on Sherlock's lower eyelid. "Definitely anemic you need iron supplements. Your areolas seem enlarged. Are they sensitive?" Sherlock turned beet red and shrugged. "I'm just going to take a listen." John said as he placed the stethoscope on Sherlock's chest listening for heart sounds. "Sounds good, regular rate, no murmur. Lungs next deep breathe." Sherlock complied as John listened to each of his lung fields, frowning slightly as he went along.

"You must really have increased capacity. It almost sounds like your hyper inflated. Are you having any shortness of breath?" Sherlock shook his head. John then moved to his abdomen. He listened for a few moments frowning again. "I think I hear a bruit. Do you have a history of triple A's in your family?" Sherlock frowned obviously confused. "Sorry, sometimes I forget not everyone is a doctor. Abdominal aortic aneurism." Sherlock shook his head. John could tell he was becoming distressed. "Sherlock it's fine. It might be nothing. You'll just need an ultrasound to rule it out. Blood pressure next." John put on inflated the cuff and listened with the stethoscope. "A little elevated but not bad considering all the stress you've been under. John quickly moved through an entire system check making notes on what required follow up. "It's hard to tell what's truly abnormal and what's a side effect from the DNA splicing. Now tell me how you been feeling. Don't leave anything out it could be important."

Sherlock sighed before answering. "I have been suffering from nausea, vomiting, vertigo, and fatigue." Sherlock frowned. "I think I smell different." John leaned in closer to him and inhaled deeply. John paused realizing that Sherlock was right. There was a definite change in the way he smelled. John inhaled deeply again and closed his eyes. The scent was very calming it made him feel content and relaxed.

"You're right. You do smell different. I think it's an improvement." John said only half joking. The scent had an immediate calming effect on him and he had an irrational urge to bury his nose in Sherlock's groin where it would be strongest. John shook his head attempting to erase the random thought. "I will have to see about sneaking you in for an ultrasound. I know a few technologists who owe me favors. I think now would be a good time to collect." Sherlock then leaned forward kissing John gently.

"Thank you, John." Sherlock said as the kiss ended. John frowned in confusion.

"For what?" John asked stroking Sherlock's prominent cheekbone.

"For last week; for everything. I love you John. I have for a long time and have only recently come to realize that. I just wanted you to know." Sherlock explained. John was truly touched. Sociopath indeed! John wanted to hurt every single person who ever unfairly labeled Sherlock. He was indeed a genius; he was also eccentric and abrupt but he was not a sociopath. He could feel and empathize. He had built a wall to protect himself and John was honored that he trusted him enough to allow him in.

"Ta Sherlock." John took a deep breath. "I love you too." Sherlock pulled John into a tight embrace. He was trembling slightly. "What's wrong?" John asked stroking Sherlock's back.

"I didn't think you would. I didn't think anyone would ever love me." Sherlock whispered.

"Sherlock, I admit that this isn't something that I planned, and if a year ago you told me that I would tell Sherlock Holmes that I loved him; I would say you're daft, but it's true. I do love you even more so after what you told me last week that took a lot of courage and I really am honored that you trust me that much."

Rather than answer, Sherlock began kissing the crook of John's neck. His hands caressed his sides. John sighed. He knew what Sherlock wanted. He just didn't know if he could perform. Although he was attracted to Sherlock, his hormones were still a mess and moved in peaks and troughs with his monthly transformation, peaking during rut and ebbing completely just after. He supposed that he could try and even if he couldn't perform; he could at least get Sherlock off. Garnering his courage, John decided to go for broke. He snogged Sherlock deeply. Sherlock returned the kiss moaning encouragingly. Their tongues dueled for dominance. John nipped gently at Sherlock's full lips and moved lower kissing the pale column of his throat making his way down his body. He stroked Sherlock's nipples with his thumbs moving in gentle circles. Sherlock arched into the touch. John took the hint and kissed one and then the other.

"John!" Sherlock cried. "Don't stop." Sherlock's breathing was quickening and becoming erratic. John looked down and saw the outline of his impressive erection pushing against his trousers. John quickly undid the belt and shucked of the pants. Sherlock was now clad only his black silk boxers. The tip of his glans was exposed through the front opening and was weeping with fluid further evidence of his arousal. John massaged Sherlock's thighs for a few moments working up his courage. He then slipped his hands behind Sherlock and into his boxer's giving his firm bum a good squeeze. Even before Baskerville, John had often admired the way Sherlock looked in a fitted pants suit. The man's arse was simply perfection.

"These are getting in the way. Let's take them off, shall we." John murmured softly as he carefully removed the undergarment leaving Sherlock completely nude. John moved his hands back to Sherlock's thighs and pushed them further apart. Time to go for broke. John thought as he leaned down pausing for a moment inhaling deeply. He sighed Sherlock smelled divine. Lush, like a mixture of fruit and honey with a slight undertone of musk. He then took Sherlock in his mouth. John started slowly licking and sucking a little at a time. It wasn't as hard as he had first anticipated. Although he had never tasted ejaculate, numerous people had told him that it was salty and bitter. Sherlock tasted sweet and not at all unpleasant. He didn't take Sherlock completely in. He was very well endowed and John wanted to avoid gagging but was able to take more than he thought and put his hand around the base of the penis for additional stimulation. Sherlock seemed to have no complaints what so ever with his technique. He was writhing and calling John's name. His hands were placed gently on the back of John's head not pushing but simply running his fingers through John's soft hair.

Sherlock gasped when John took him into his mouth. "Oh God, John! Feels amazing." He could feel his climax building. John continued his ministrations as Sherlock's pleasure rose to new heights. Sherlock never imagined John would do this but was overjoyed that he did. Sherlock could feel pressure building at the base of his spine. "John, I'm close." Sherlock ground out his voice deep with arousal. Sherlock attempted to pull away but John moved his hands around his back and tightly held his hips in place. "Coming!" Sherlock screamed as he filled John's mouth with his release. John continued to suck and swallow not quite quickly enough as some semen dripped out the sides of his mouth.

John wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and grinned at Sherlock cheekily. "Not bad for a first try, eh?" He looked up at Sherlock who looked utterly debauched and satisfied. God he was gorgeous. Maybe they could try this again in a week and hopefully John's hormone levels would be high enough for a proper shag. John moved up into the bed and lay next to Sherlock, who looked like he was about to fall asleep, but turned prone and bent his knees present that gorgeous rear end for John's viewing pleasure. John gave it a gentle pat. "Not tonight love. I'd love to and you're beautiful but not so soon after rut. Maybe in another week we can try." John thought briefly of offering to bottom but quickly changed his mind. Though he trusted Sherlock completely and knew that he would not hurt him, John didn't know how the wolf would react to the submissive position and the last thing he wanted was to put either of them in danger.

Chapter 13

Greg Lestrade looked at Mycroft Holmes critically. He seemed to look worse every time he saw him. He had lost weight and there were dark circles under his eyes. He had requested a meeting with Greg to discuss a "personal matter." Curious to know what he meant Greg had agreed to the private meeting. "I need a favor detective." Mycroft stated getting right to the point as usual. "I need information which me usual sources have been unable to obtain involving my brother and Dr. Watson." Greg frowned.

"Mr. Holmes, I don't know what you expect that I can do that your other sources can't. Even if I were inclined to help you, Sherlock and John are no on longer taking cases and I don't have regular contact with either of them. If I attempted to contact them out of the blue for no obvious reason, it would seem, at least to me, to be rather suspicious." Greg explained.

Mycroft sighed. "I have tried every way I can think of to get back into my brothers graces but have failed with each attempt. This cannot go on. Something is wrong with him and I intend to find out what is by any means necessary." Greg still didn't understand what exactly Mycroft expected of him. He simply raised an eyebrow in question. When Mycroft only stared at him like a bug in a petri dish, Greg decided to be blunt.

"I really won't be any help as far as John or your brother are concerned, but if you need a friend I'm here." Greg said honestly hoping that he wouldn't live to regret it. Now it was Mycroft's turn to raise a questioning eyebrow. "I can tell this strain between you and Sherlock is weighing heavily on you. If you want to talk, I'm here. No judgment." Mycroft continued to stare but Greg could tell that he was seriously considering the offer.

"I admire your candor, Detective Inspector. I do believe that you are mistaken regarding your connections with my brother and Dr. Watson. I would like to be your friend and I also would like your help in addition is that agreeable Detective?" Mycroft asked.

"My friends call me Greg and yes it would be. You seem extremely tense and I would like to buy you a drink and while we're at it you can fill me in on what the hell has been going on with you and Sherlock that has caused such a insurmountable rift." Mycroft paused considering the offer.

"I'll accept with the condition that have a drink at my home which is completely private and secure." Mycroft bargained.

"Agreed." Greg said not wanting to push his luck with the unofficial head of the English government.

A black unmarked luxury car pulled up which Mycroft entered looking at Greg expectantly. "Coming?" Greg nodded following Mycroft into the car.

Greg stepped out of the unmarked car carefully. He was completely pissed. "Watch your step, Gregory." Mycroft called slurring his words ever so slightly from inside the vehicle. Mycroft was also inebriated but in much better shape than Greg who could barely walk straight. Greg nodded which made his head spin. "Athena please don't allow DI Lestrade to fall on the way up to his flat." Greg taken by surprise when Mycroft's beautiful PA helped him up to his room and gave him a small package courtesy of Mr. Mycroft Holmes. Greg made his way to the bed praying that the hangover wouldn't kill him and promptly fell asleep.

Lestrade awoke to the sound of birds chirping and his first thought was to get his gun and shot at them. "Bloody hell," Greg moaned to himself. His head felt like it was going to split in two and his stomach was threatening to empty itself on its own accord. "I'm getting too old for this Shite." Greg gingerly got up in search of Aspirin. After taking two, he sat down and tried to remember everything from the night before. Unfortunately, his memory became less reliable as the night wore on.

He remembered going to Mycroft's private estate where he was offered extremely expensive brandy. Greg should have asked for Ale. He didn't usually drink hard liquor. The alcohol had packed a punch and Greg became spectacularly drunk very quickly. Greg tried to remember what Mycroft had said. Greg concentrated trying to jog his memory. Bits and pieces started coming back. Mycroft had actually given Greg some background on his and Sherlock's upbringing. He then alluded to the types of sick things that had been going on at Baskerville, which was where both John and Sherlock had been held captive before Mycroft infiltrated it and had it shut down. Mycroft wouldn't disclose details but both John and Sherlock had been subject to illegal medical experimentation and that was part of the reason that Mycroft was so understandably concerned. Mycroft confided that he had tried everything to get his brother to speak to him but nothing had worked. He feared if he forced the issue now then their relationship truly would be beyond repair. "Contrary to what you may think, I truly love him Gregory. I am at a loss." Greg had believed Mycroft. It was obvious that he felt badly about the turn that his and Sherlock's relationship had taken. Greg himself was an only child and couldn't really relate to sibling rivalry. He had offered to make some discrete inquires to John hoping that he would be more receptive than Sherlock but made no promises of success.

Mycroft had looked relieved. It was at that point that things became fuzzy. Both he and Mycroft had been drinking that very strong brandy. Greg concentrated trying to remember the conversation. He flushed as he recalled asking Mycroft if he was dating anyone. "I do not date Gregory." Mycroft had said.

"Aren't you lonely?" Greg asked.

"Caring is not an advantage Gregory. It's a lesson everyone should learn, yourself included." Greg had frowned at him deeply. It was obvious that Mycroft had emotions after all he had just admitted to loving Sherlock and was obviously worried about him.

"You don't follow your own advice Mycroft." Greg pointed out carefully. Mycroft had looked both embarrassed and sad and Greg wished that he could take the words back.

"Indeed, Gregory but as the saying goes, do as I say not as I am." Mycroft conceded. "I think that it is time to bring this visit to an end. I thank you for your assistance and will accompany you back to your home." With that Mycroft had called for transportation and the mysterious black vehicle reappeared with Mycroft's PA inside.

"Bollocks," Greg muttered as the evenings' events slowly came back to him. He hoped that he hadn't angered the elder Holmes brother. "Could have been worse at least you didn't come on to him" Greg murmured and flushed at the mere thought.

Three weeks later

John paced back and forth in the flat. The full moon was tomorrow. John was feeling the tension as the wolf came closer to the surface. John and Sherlock knew that they were being watched even more closely. They would be spotted if the attempted another break in to the London Zoo. They needed a new plan and they needed it fast. "Sedate me." John said plainly. "We can't take the chance." Ever since John had confessed his growing awareness during each subsequent transformation Sherlock had been trying to convince him that they would be safe without cages or sedation and the Zoo could be a thing of the past. John wasn't convinced. While he was more in control in wolf form, he was still unpredictable and if he hurt Sherlock or anyone for that matter he would never forgive himself. "Just this month, Sherlock until we come up with something safer an alternative to the Zoo."

Sherlock got up from the sofa and stood in front of him effectively halting his pacing. "Look at me." Sherlock ordered and gently cradled John's face in his hands forcing him to meet his eyes. "I trust you John. You need to trust yourself. I have sedation if it comes to that but I truly don't think it will. We'll never know until we try." Sherlock said kissing him softly on the forehead. John was torn. He hoped and prayed that it would be possible but didn't believe that things would be so easy. Sherlock must have read his skeptical expression. "Just try John. That's all I ask." Sherlock pleaded.

John sighed in defeat. "Alright but I want you to have a full loaded tranquilizer gun loaded within reach at all times." John insisted. Sherlock nodded.

"Stop worrying. Come to bed." Sherlock said his voice turning needy. It's the night before the shift. Let's take advantage of your elevated hormone levels. I owe you from last time." Sherlock said referring to the blowjob three weeks ago that John had given him pulling John close and kissing him. John could barely believe how quickly the time had flown. Not only had he not made good on his promise to take Sherlock to bed but also he still hadn't scheduled the ultrasound. Between Lestrade and Mycroft's meddling the time had simply gotten away from him. What the hell? John thought. It was definitely overdue.

"You sure that you're up to it? You might want to rest up for afterwards." John confirmed remembering that rut would be coming in three days and that might be a bit much for Sherlock.

"John, I have three days to rest up while you are transformed. Let's have some fun it is way overdue." Sherlock said leading them into the bedroom. Sherlock started unbuttoning his shirt. John grabbed hands.

"Let me. Sit down on the bed." He murmured as the both sat down. John started to slowly unbutton Sherlock's shirt. Sherlock began to reciprocate and soon they were both bare-chested. Sherlock's appetite had recently returned with a vengeance and he had gained back the weight he had lost and then some. In fact he had developed a tiny potbelly, which John was noticing for the first time. It just made him more appealing. He looked happy and healthy and not quite so breakable. He could feel his pulse and breathing quicken there was no doubt that his ability to perform would not be an issue this time. His hormone levels were nearly at their peak. John's eye's dilated slightly giving off an inhuman glow making them look an electric blue. The wolf was close and it wanted Sherlock as well. Mine. Mate. It thought. John kissed Sherlock hard, not quite with bruising force but much more roughly than normal. Sherlock moaned softly kneading his long graceful fingers into John's well muscled back. Clothes, there were too many clothes. John began quickly disposing of their remaining clothing until they were both nude. "Beautiful, and all mine." John croaked in a guttural voice that he barely recognized. John had a moment of panic as he realized that sex may be dangerous this close to a shift. The wolf was very close and although John was still in control the wolf was feeling and responding to everything. John wanted to stop it but Sherlock held him tighter and bit his neck. A moan slipped from John's lips and he promptly forgot what he had been thinking as Sherlock licked the love bite and began stroking his nipples. John leaned down to return the favor suckling each of Sherlock's slightly swollen nipples gently.

"Bloody Hell!" Sherlock cried out as he climaxed coating them both with his seed. John gathered the fluid, which coated both of them slicking his cock and then he began gently teasing Sherlock's opening with moist fingers. Sherlock took the hint and spread his wings lying on his back with his legs apart to give John better access. John brought his head down to Sherlock's groin and gently suckled the tip of his now flaccid penis. It began to harden immediately with the stimulation although not to full arousal. Sherlock smelled wonderful; an intoxicating mix of fruity musk. The scent had grown stronger since their last sexual encounter. John gently laved his scrotum moving lower to his opening. He removed his fingers and licked and sucked at the muscle loosening it quickly. "Bollocks!" Sherlock screamed and climaxed a second time. The scent of arousal permeated the room. John's own member was full and aching dripping with arousal. "John, God, I'm ready! Please take me love." Those words seemed to penetrate John's lustful haze. He took his aching cock and lined up and was fully embedded with one strong thrust. John moaned as the tight heat squeezed him. He stilled allowing Sherlock a moment to adjust waiting for a signal that he was ready for motion. John looked down at Sherlock's face. He was truly stunning and flushed with arousal. His unusually beautiful grey green eyes were glassy and bright, his alabaster skin shone with sweat and his soft curls were wild as soft moans came from his lips. Sherlock gently squeezed his bum and kissed him. "Let me ride you?" Sherlock pleaded. John was confused for a moment unsure of what he meant. Sherlock sensing this whispered, "like this," as he carefully changed their positions sitting on John's hips with John firmly inside him. Sherlock then began to move up and down riding John's erection. John put his knees up behind Sherlock to give him some leverage. "Yes, thank you, love." Sherlock moaned in appreciation. John's wolf didn't particularly like the feeling of being pinned but the pleasure made up for it and soon they both relaxed. John could feel his climax building at the base of his spine. He began to move in counterpoint with Sherlock meeting with each thrust. Sherlock brilliant white wings were spread as he moaned. John I'm close! Come with me." John climaxed just as Sherlock's muscles began tightening as he came for a third time. John pulsed and twitched inside Sherlock as he emptied his seed into him with a satisfied moan.

"Mine," He whispered in a hoarse voice. He carefully repositioned himself back on top of Sherlock without slipping out. He was already half hard again and began to thrust gently while kissing Sherlock deeply. Sherlock kissed back gently the urgency now gone after three powerful orgasms. Sherlock wrapped his legs around John's hips and laid back allowing John to do the thrusting. After a few more thrusts, John climaxed a second time filling Sherlock to capacity. Sherlock sighed contently eyes beginning to drop. John carefully pulled out and pulled Sherlock into a tight embrace. "Mine." John murmured again unaware that his eyes were now completely gold in color as he fell into a deep satisfied sleep.

Sherlock's full bladder woke him. He looked over John who was still sleeping soundly. "Lucky bugger." Sherlock muttered as he made his way to the lavatory. He looked down at his stomach as he emptied his bladder. He frowned. "You're getting fat Sherlock." He said stating the obvious. The nausea, which had been plaguing him, had suddenly disappeared about three weeks ago as mysteriously as it had come and in its place came a voracious appetite. Sherlock paid it no mind at first thinking that it was his body's way of compensating for the weight loss and would lessen once he was back to his normal weight. It didn't. Sherlock had regained the weight and was still steadily gaining. He tried to eat less, but when he attempted to skip meals or eat very small portions he was ravenous and miserable. He would not only be hungry and irritable, but would also become weak and light headed. Once he ate a filling meal the symptoms disappeared. Unfortunately, all of that food was catching up with him. Sherlock sighed. He couldn't really bring himself to care. He was deeply in love happy beyond words. As long as John still loved him, a few stone didn't matter. Sherlock decided that he might as well shower. After spending thirty minutes in a hot shower, Sherlock felt wonderful. Right on schedule his stomach rumbled loudly making itself known. Sherlock decided that he would fix John breakfast in bed as a thank you for last night. Sherlock shuddered as he remembered. That had been the best sex yet. John had been perfect, impassioned but not too rough. Sherlock felt knackered but not sore. Sherlock made porridge with biscuits with herbal tea. He brought two large bowls to the bedroom with the biscuits and tea on a tray. "John, wake up." Sherlock called gently shaking his shoulder. John awoke abruptly with a start but quickly settled.

"Sherlock how many times have I told you not to touch me if I'm sleeping this close to a transformation; it's dangerous." John lectured. "You cooked?" He asked in obvious disbelief.

"I was up and hungry, so yes, I cooked. I figured you would be hungry too. Was I incorrect?" Sherlock asked slightly affronted that John thought him incapable.

"No, Ta Sherlock. I just haven't ever seen you cook before." John explained. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"I cook when you're at work at the surgery. I may have grown up well off but I know how to boil an egg." Sherlock snapped which he immediately regretted it. He meant to say thank you to John for last night not have a row for no good reason. "Forgive me, John that was uncalled for." Sherlock offered the tray as a peace offering. "I wanted to say thank you for last night." Sherlock began eating his bowl of porridge with gusto. John didn't answer but took the bowl with a nod of thanks and started eating much more slowly than Sherlock. In less than five minutes, Sherlock's bowl was empty and he wanted to get another but was embarrassed to do so in front of John.

"Sherlock, after this transformation, I really want to get you that scan. You look much better, but I really need to follow up on that." John said abruptly changing the subject. Sherlock nodded. John was right. Sherlock still felt like something was off about him, he just didn't know what. John sighed deeply wringing his hands. Sherlock knew that the transformation was weighing heavily on his mind.

"Stop obsessing. It will be what it will be. We are both as prepared as we can be. Leave it at that John. Don't waste the day worrying about something which you cannot change or control." Sherlock advised gently squeezing John's hand. John gave him a weak smile. "I really am sorry I snapped earlier John. I've been a bit moody lately. John snorted and smirked.

"What else is new?" John asked in a teasing voice. Sherlock knew he was kidding but the remark still stung. He looked down as he flushed with embarrassment. John frowned at his reaction. "I was only joking love," he said softly. "I guess neither of us is at our best this morning." John kissed Sherlock softly. "Am I forgiven?" Sherlock smiled and nodded.

"Always, John." He murmured returning the kiss gently. Sherlock could sense John's wolf lurking beneath the surface. There was tension but it seemed less intense this time, although John could just be getting better at hiding it from him. Sherlock wanted nothing more then to lay in John's arms until the shift but didn't dare suggest it. John was too tense. He would start moving more as the full moon came closer in an attempt to burn the nervous energy. Sherlock's mobile went off. He tensed knowing who it was.

"Bloody Mycroft! Not today!" John shouted grabbing the mobile and opening the message. John grit his teeth. "I think he's going to come tonight Sherlock. He knows it's the full moon. I don't want him here. It's dangerous. The wolf will sense the tension between the two of you and take it as a threat. I may not have enough control to stop it from attacking if it feels threatened. I'd rather my wolf not kill your brother." Sherlock opened his mouth about to protest but John held up his hand silencing him before he could speak. "Don't you dare tell me you want your brother dead! I know that's not true. You're angry and you have a right to be, but don't let that anger allow you to make bad decisions which will last a lifetime and that you can't take back." John warned. "He's your only brother Sherlock. This feud can't go on forever. You have to deal with it. Ring him, if you must but keep him away for the next three nights. Call Lestrade, if he won't listen, but you must keep your brother away from here for the next three nights."

Sherlock was seething. Bloody Mycroft indeed, always interfering stressing poor John at the worst possible time. Sherlock was tempted to do nothing and allow John's wolf to do whatever it wanted to Mycroft but John would never forgive Sherlock or himself it he hurt Mycroft even if it was deserved. "I'll call John and if he doesn't listen. Then I'll go to the DI." Sherlock promised. John visibly relaxed with the reassurance. "I'm going to make that call now John. I'd rather you not hear this it isn't going to be pleasant. I'm afraid my patience has run out." Sherlock went upstairs to John's room to make the call. Sherlock dialed Mycroft's private number. He picked up on the first ring. "Restez a l'ecart pour les trios prochaines nuits" Sherlock hissed in French so John wouldn't be unable to eavesdrop. _Stay away for the next three nights._

"Why Sherlock? I know what's happening. What are you planning?" Mycroft asked speaking in English, which didn't surprise Sherlock, Mycroft could never take a hint.

"Ne vous inquietez pas, il sera bien juste rester a l'ecart." Sherlock ground out trying to sound convincing._ Don't worry it will be fine, just stay away._

"You're lying." Mycroft accused.

"I'm not! There will only be a problem if you show up!" Sherlock shouted in English. "Please Mycroft." Sherlock added the words nearly catching in his throat.

"Oh God! What are you doing?! Something dangerous. You were always reckless Sherlock, but John, that surprises me." Mycroft was actually becoming hysterical which is something Sherlock never thought him capable of.

"Mycroft, so help me God! If you show up here in the next three nights I can't be held responsible for what may happen to you. If you won't do it for me then please do it for John he couldn't live with himself if you got hurt." Sherlock said in a last ditch effort to get Mycroft to see reason. Silence. "Mycroft are you still there? Promise me you'll stay away." Silence. "Mycroft I know you hear me! Answer me!" Then after a moment the silence was broken the sound of by sobbing. Sherlock thought he was mistaken at first but quickly realized that Mycroft was actually crying that was another thing, which Sherlock thought him incapable of. Sherlock pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. He didn't know how to deal with this. Mycroft was trying to manipulate him. He never showed emotion; it had to be tactical.

"Give me the phone Sherlock." John said as he entered the room. Sherlock handed it over perhaps John would know what to make of this ridiculous act. "Mycroft, it's John." John frowned deeply as he heard Mycroft crying brokenly. He was quiet letting his brother wined down. "I know you're worried but I'm begging you to please stay away for the next three nights. You have my word that Sherlock and I will both speak with after the full moon but YOU HAVE TO STAY AWAY!" John said. "I gave you my word. Now I need you to give more yours." Sherlock could still hear Mycroft on the other end of the phone. There would be no reason to but on a show for John. Perhaps Mycroft was truly upset which was a very unsettling thought indeed.

"I promise three nights." Mycroft said in a voice that was hoarse from crying. John handed the phone back to Sherlock who shook his head. _Take it_ John mouthed. _Try to soothe him. He's terrified for you._ Sherlock sneered but took the phone unsure of anything that he could say that would sound remotely sincere.

"Relax, Mycroft. I want you to know that it is gratifying to know that you inherited at least one trait from mummy even if it was her tendency towards hysterics." Sherlock said promptly ending the call.

John covered his face with his hand in disbelief. "That's your idea of soothing?" John asked.

"I didn't want to seem insincere. It's bad enough that you promised him that I would speak with him again. Ta for that by the way." Sherlock said.

"Sherlock for good sakes! Have a heart. Your brother, who is one of the coldest and most composed people that I ever met, was crying for you. Why can't you just let it go? Yes, he's made mistakes, but he's sorry. What more do you want from him?" John said in exasperation.

"I want him to abide by my wishes and leave us alone which he cannot seem to do." Sherlock said though his anger seemed to be fading significantly. We'll continue this discussion at a later date," Sherlock said with a tired sigh.

John nodded in acknowledgement. "I'm going for a run. I'll be back in an hour." John said as he made his way out of the flat leaving Sherlock alone with his thoughts.

Sherlock's mind began to wander. Mummy had died in a car accident when Sherlock was just fifteen; this was part of the reason Sherlock had decided to go to university. The thought of living with Mycroft while the betrayal of the institutionalization was still so fresh had been the deciding factor. A thought came to him unbidden of their mother's funeral years ago of Mycroft standing stalk still completely emotionless. Why cry for me and not mother? Unless Mycroft had grieved in private where no one would ever see him, which was far more likely. His brother was truly an enigma even to Sherlock. Yes. He was a very irritating, overbearing, and stubborn enigma. 'Caring is not an advantage.' Mycroft had said this to Sherlock more times than he could count yet Mycroft appeared to be at the mercy of emotions much as anyone else. Sherlock smiled as the thought that he had for once kept his emotions under better control than his brother. Looking back now however, he may have judged Mycroft a bit harshly. Sherlock had adored his mother and she was most likely responsible the decision to institutionalize him and Sherlock had not wanted to see that. John's plea came back to him. Perhaps it was time to try to let the past go.

John ran hard enjoying the feeling of blood pumping through his veins. He closed his eyes as he thought about tonight. God, he couldn't bear the thought of something going wrong. Trust yourself. Sherlock had said. John smirked. He trusted himself fine. It was the wolf that worried him. He tried not to worry over much. John glanced at his watch. Two hours had flown by. He really should get back to Baker Street. John pulled out his mobile and texted Sherlock to let him know that he was on his way home.

Mycroft paced back and forth. He desperately wanted to go to check on John and Sherlock but he knew that would only lead to trouble. He had given his word. For a moment he was tempted to call Lestrade, but then thought better of it. Calling Lestrade would only lead to questions, which Mycroft couldn't answer.

Sherlock looked up as John entered the flat but continued to play the violin. Bach's concerto filled the flat. John sat down beside him on the sofa and closed his eyes. Sherlock stopped playing. John's eyes snapped opened. "Don't stop. I like that piece." Sherlock resumed playing with a small smile. The run had done John good. He was much more relaxed. It was now four. John would likely fix dinner soon. They would eat and then the sun would set around seven and the full moon would rise giving way to John's transformation. Sherlock had the tranquilizers but did not foresee needing them. John and his wolf were becoming more integrated with each shift. Sherlock did not truly fear the wolf. It had never shown him any aggression. It had been possessive and dominant but not aggressive.

Chapter 14

Sherlock cringed as he watched the transformation. John's body was contorting itself. John screamed as bones shifted and muscles reformed. Sherlock turned his head unable to watch. They were still in the living room. Sherlock had the tranquilizer's ready. Suddenly the sound changed from moans and screams to whines and pants. Sherlock turned his head and saw the form of John's wolf curled into itself trembling. Sherlock couldn't help but feel sorry for it. Before considering the consequences of his actions, Sherlock crouched down and stroked the wolf gently. "I'm sorry that you have to go through this John. It isn't fair." The wolf looked up at him and held eye contact. It did not attempt to growl or assert dominance. The golden eyes seemed more human this time and Sherlock was certain that John was maintaining a good deal of awareness. As if to confirm his suspicions, the wolf licked Sherlock's wrist in acknowledgement. Sherlock smiled. "You worry yourself for nothing John. I know that this time you can understand me." In response, the wolf crawled into Sherlock's lap resting its huge head on his belly and falling asleep. Sherlock sighed in relief as he stroked John's head allowing him some well-deserved rest.

John's wolf awoke to the sound of Sherlock's voice. "John, I have to urinate." It reluctantly moved to allow Sherlock up to use the lavatory. John's wolf scented the area. It was comforting to be in familiar territory. The wolf still had to fight a strong urge to lift his leg and mark. His human and his mate would be angry if he did. The wolf could sense his human "John's" thoughts and feelings. The wolf wanted nothing more than to bury his nose in his mate and bask in his alluring scent, which had become richer since his last transformation. "Sherlock" smelled even better than he remembered. Something was different about his mate. His scent had grown more lush and appealing, while also stirring a strong desire to comfort and protect. The wolf continued to explore the flat and then scratched at the lavatory door. "John, I'll be out in a minute." Sherlock called from inside the restroom. The wolf sat down and waited for his mate to join him.

Sherlock opened the door and nearly tripped over John's wolf. "John why are you hovering? I'm not going anywhere. Are you hungry? We have steak in the fridge." Sherlock said as he made his way to the kitchen. Sherlock sighed. John followed closely at his side. "Would you like it cooked?" Sherlock asked. The wolf growled softly in response. "Thought not." Sherlock said with a smirk. John nosed at his mates rear end scenting deeply as he opened the refrigerator. "Oi, none of that John." Sherlock said in a firm voice as he turned around to give the steak to John. "I will not have you sniffing at my genitals." John simply whined in response. "Really John. You can control yourself." Sherlock said as he put the steak on the ground for John. John huffed but quickly began eating.

John jumped softly on the bed where Sherlock lay sleeping. He burrowed under the covers and carefully nosed between Sherlock's legs where his scent was strongest with only the thin cotton pajamas bottoms as a barrier. John was careful to move gently to avoid disturbing his sleeping mate. The wolf could sense his human's dismay at this act but refused to stop. It's long rough tongue darted out and began licking its mate quickly dampening the pants. Almost immediately his mates penis responded by becoming fully erect straining against the confines of the cotton pants. The wolf could not only scent but also taste the evidence of his mate's arousal. Sherlock moaned softly but remained asleep. The wolf whined in frustration, unable to do much more in its current form. It wanted to mount, but that was not possible. Reluctantly, it stopped, knowing that if it continued it would awaken its mate and Sherlock would be very angry. It would have its chance during the upcoming rut. It could not resist marking. Rather than urinate on its mate again, this time it rubbed its hindquarters on Sherlock's erection. While not as strong a marker as urine, it still satisfied the urge to mark and would not upset his mate. It carefully covered its mate with its large body making itself into a living blanket.

Deeply asleep, Sherlock slowly became aware of the familiar sensation of a full bladder. Something was on top of him putting extra pressure on his fully distended bladder. Sherlock started to come awake. Something shifted and Sherlock groaned as the pressure became even greater. Before Sherlock was even able to sit up, it was too late. His face flushed bright red as he lost bladder control in the bed soaking himself and the sheets. "John wake up. I need to change the sheets." Sherlock said his voice filled with shame. John's wolf whined softly sensing his distress, but jumped down onto the floor. "This is ridiculous. Have a truly gotten to the point of losing bladder control." Sherlock muttered angrily under his breath as a quickly stripped the bed. Sherlock put the sheets in the wash along with his soiled bedclothes. John followed his now nude mate as he went into the dresser for clean clothing. Sherlock grabbed another pair of pajamas and took them into the bathroom quickly closing the door. John's wolf whined scratching at the door as the shower came on.

Sherlock showered quickly not taking his time like usual. He could hear John outside scratching at the door. "What the bloody hell is wrong with me?" He muttered under his breath. He paused when he felt a fluttering in his stomach as he was moving the soap over his abdomen. It was gone as quickly as it came. Sherlock sighed. Lately he had become prone to heartburn and gas, which had been exacerbated but his sudden cravings for spicy food. He moved down to his groin and gave it a good scrubbing becoming aroused in the process. His sex drive had been steadily increasing with his appetite. Surprisingly, Sherlock was actually looking forward to the upcoming rut. Hopefully John would maintain greater awareness this time and wouldn't be quite as rough. Sherlock quickly brought himself to orgasm taking advantage of the privacy and letting the shower was away the evidence. John's wolf was reluctant to leave his side even for a moment. It was beginning to make Sherlock a bit stir crazy. They would be confined to the flat until John transformed back into his human form. Sherlock only let John out twice a day briefly to relieve himself; once early in the morning before sunrise and late in the evening after sunset. It was too dangerous to John out for longer even though he seemed to have gained a lot more awareness and control. Sherlock was certain that John would not be able to hold back the wolf's instinctive dominance if it felt threatened.

The two days that followed blended into each other. John's wolf continued to hover over Sherlock possessive and overprotective. Sherlock had warned Mrs. Hudson away from their flat claiming that it would be dangerous because of a chemical reaction which he was testing involving a case. Sherlock was grateful that no one had knocked on the door, which would most likely cause John's already possessive and territorial instincts to strengthen. There were also times however when John's wolf was calm and relaxed; content to lay its large head in Sherlock's lap to be stroked. The wolf seemed drawn to Sherlock's slightly rounded belly resting it massive head either beside or on top of it. This was causing Sherlock to become even more self-conscious of his recent weight gain. Sherlock's pants were becoming tighter and more difficult to fasten with each passing week. Strangely enough the weight gain seemed to be confined to the midsection. The rest of his body, except his slightly swollen nipples, seemed unaffected remaining lean and lithe. Sherlock thoughts shifted to tonight and John's transformation and the following rut. Sherlock yawned. He was still fatigued. He decided to take a quick nap before nightfall knowing that he would need to save his strength.

John woke up in Sherlock's lap shaking and covered in sweat. "Easy, John. The worst is over now." Sherlock murmured as he stroked John's sweat soaked brow. John looked down at himself and realized that he had transformed back into his human form and that both he and Sherlock were unharmed. Sherlock had him cocooned in his brilliant white wings, which wrapped around them. John sighed in relief. His worst fears had not come to pass. John closed his eyes allowing his other senses to dominate. He often found this technique to be helpful in focusing his scattered thoughts after a transformation. Sherlock's mobile rang jolting John out of his quiet repose. "Bloody Mycroft," Sherlock said with a sigh. "Why are you calling Mycroft?" Sherlock asked as he answered the phone. He sounded more tired than angry. John could make out both ends of the conversation thanks to his heightened senses. Mycroft still sounded terrible. He was obviously worried about both of them and his nerves were shot. _Be nice. _John mouthed getting Sherlock's attention by stroking his cheek. Sherlock merely rolled his eyes as Mycroft continued to bombard Sherlock with questions not giving him a chance to get a word in edgewise. Once Mycroft's questions finally ceased, Sherlock sighed deeply. "We are fine Mycroft. There is no need to worry. If you don't believe me you can come for tea in a few days to see for yourself." Sherlock sighed again as Mycroft answered. "Because we need a few more days to ourselves, rest assured the danger has past. Now if you'll excuse me, there are important matters to which I must attend." Sherlock hung up and shut his phone completely off.

"Are you sure that's wise?" John asked. Sherlock never shut his phone off completely. Rather than answer, Sherlock kissed John deeply causing his arousal to spike as rut began to take hold. "Bugger, Sherlock!" John moaned into the kiss. "You shouldn't do that right now. You'll bring rut on even faster." Sherlock broke the kiss and pulled John close and held him gently stroking his back. John closed his eyes and attempted to steady his breathing and heart rate. Maybe this time would be different. John was able to remember a number of things from the past few days while he was in wolf form quite clearly. Perhaps he would maintain more awareness and control during this rut. "Sherlock I'll try to be more gentle this time. I think I may have more control."

"I'm not worried John." Sherlock said with surety as he kissed John deeply again and began striping off his cloths in haste. John stared at Sherlock's nude form as his arousal skyrocketed. He could feel his hormone levels surging upwards as rut took hold. He groaned and attempted to center himself and maintain control and awareness. The bodies joined and the frenzy began.

"Are you all right? Did I hurt you?" John asked as gently probed Sherlock's body inspecting for damage that he might have caused during the rut. Sherlock sighed pulling John into his arms kissing the crown of his head.

"I'm fine John. You were much more gentle this time and it was quite enjoyable. I'm just a bit knackered." Sherlock explained as he stifled a yawn. John sighed in relief. He could remember bits and pieces of the past 24 hours, which was a definite improvement from his previous ruts, which were a complete blank. John's phone rang. John glanced at the screen and discovered that he had 4 missed calls from Mycroft. He let the voicemail pick it up not quite up to the lengthy explanation that Mycroft would demand.

"You might want to turn you phone back on." John said as he showed Sherlock the screen with four missed calls and subsequent voicemails. Sherlock merely scoffed clearly not up to talking to Mycroft yet either. "You also could leave it off until tomorrow." John said with a wink. John frowned when he noticed Sherlock's hands rubbing his slightly swollen abdomen with a look on his face that was mixture of discomfort and confusion. "What's wrong? Stomach troubling you?" John asked moving from lover to physician effortlessly. Sherlock looked at him flushing as if embarrassed by being caught in the act of doing something he shouldn't be.

"I think it may be gas. I'm going to the loo." Sherlock said as he made his way to the bathroom. John made a mental note to examine Sherlock again at St. Bart's. He needed more than the limited equipment in his medical bag. They could get him in late at night when it was slow and there was only a skeleton crew. He had built up a number of favors among the doctors, nurses and techs over the years.

Mycroft slowly put the phone down. While it was reassuring to hear Sherlock's voice again, he would not be satisfied until he saw both Sherlock and Dr. Watson in person with his own eyes. Mycroft sighed deeply and took a sip of scotch. He normally did not drink but all the stress had been getting to him as of late. He was having more difficulty keeping his emotions in check. Mycroft took a longer drink feeling the alcohol burn and settle in his stomach as his mind and body relaxed as it took effect. Rather suddenly the power surged and the room was enveloped in darkness as Mycroft's vision began to tunnel as he lost consciousness.

John frowned as he looked up from his laptop. "How are you feeling?" John asked as Sherlock made his way back to the sofa. "I think we really need to get you into St. Bart's for a scan. Sherlock nodded his head in agreement somewhat reluctantly. "We'll have to get you in late when it's slow and avoid the crowds. I know a few techs that will look the other way so I can do the scan under the table without registering you as a patient and get an unofficial reading." John explained sitting next to Sherlock and kissing his cheek gently. "I'll make some calls and see when we can get you in. We've both had a long day. I think we could both use the rest." Both John and Sherlock made their way to the bedroom for some much needed rest.

A few hours later, John glanced down at his phone as it rang again but this time Lestrade's number came up. John reluctantly answered it not really in the mood for questions but knowing that Greg wasn't nearly as aggressive as Mycroft in seeking answers. "Greg, What's new?" John asked bracing himself for a barrage of inquires. John listened as Greg gave a brief update on some current cases dropping a not so subtle hint that they could use Sherlock's help and then segued into a line of questioning about John and Sherlock's wellbeing. "We're both fine Greg." John said being as vague as possible. Much as he liked the DI, he was beginning to suspect that Mycroft might be using Greg to try to get information. John frowned when Greg asked him if he had heard from Mycroft recently. Greg said that he had tried to call several times, but had received no answer on any of Mycroft's numbers, either public or private. Why Greg would be calling Mycroft after hours was a mystery to John, but regardless, it was unlike Mycroft to be unreachable. Even if he didn't answer his own calls, his staff always followed up. "I'll try ringing him Greg. When I get a hold of him, I'll tell him you want to speak with him." Greg thanked him as he hung up the phone. John called Mycroft's private number but it did not even ring and went straight to voicemail. "Mycroft call me back. It's John." John said leaving a brief message with a frown.


	3. Part III Chapter 15-18

Chapter 15

Mycroft slowly regained consciousness and looked around the room. He was restrained with hard leather restraints and hooked up monitoring equipment but the room was unfamiliar and not a typical medical setting. Mortar, chains, and bars surrounded him. Dungeon. "Mr. Holmes, I see you're awake. You really thought that by raiding and shutting down our lab in Baskerville that you could stop us." Mycroft sneered at the so-called researcher. "We wanted you to be our next subject as we are already familiar with your brother. Now don't fight the medication. It is a much more potent and fast acting than anything we used on your brother or Dr. Watson and it is still highly experimental." He said in a condescending voice as he injected some type of medication into the IV tubing infusing into his hand and Mycroft slipped back into oblivion.

Greg grit his teeth. It had been over 72 hours since anyone had had contact with Mycroft Holmes and he was now official considered a missing person. Donovan was filling out the official report. Greg pinched the bridge of his nose as he dialed Sherlock's number. He had waited until it could be officially reported before asking Sherlock for help. Greg sincerely hoped that despite the bad feelings between the Holmes brothers that Sherlock wouldn't refuse to help find his missing brother. "Detective inspector, I have told you numerous times that I am no longer consulting on cases, if I change my mind rest assured, you will be the first to know." Sherlock stated without preamble. Greg sighed unsure of how to explain delicately. He decided that it would just be easier and quicker to be blunt.

"Your brother is missing Sherlock. I need your help finding him." Greg said and held his breath as he awaited an answer.

"If you cannot contact my brother, then it is more likely than not that he simply does not want to be found." Sherlock said with up most confidence.

Greg shook his head and refused to believe it. "No Sherlock, something is wrong. I know it. Try calling him yourself and see if you can contact him." Sherlock sighed.

"If it will appease you DI then I will call him, however, he may not answer. Mycroft can be prone to mood swings and will occasionally go off the grid briefly to seek solitude." Greg frowned deeply at this admission. Mycroft, who contrary to his claim, did not merely hold a minor position in the English government, but was the English government as Sherlock so eloquently put it. The mere notion that he would simply drop out of contact completely even if for just a brief period of time seemed ludicrous.

"I would appreciate that." Greg said not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth but mentally noting that he needed to follow up with John who had a much greater influence on Sherlock than he did.

Sherlock dialed Mycroft's private number bracing himself for a borage of questions which never came. In fact, the phone did not even ring and instead went straight to voicemail. Sherlock frowned. While Mycroft had been known to ignore calls when it suited him, Sherlock found it unsettling that he did not at least have the phone on. There was always the possibility that Mycroft's battery had gone dead but he was extremely anal about keeping it well charged at all times. Perhaps there was some validity to the DI's concern. Sherlock sighed it seemed that he should look into his brothers whereabouts. "John! Let us go in search of Mycroft." Sherlock called to John upstairs. John was down in a flash grabbing Sherlock's trench coat and opening the door.

"Wondered when you would get worried." John mumbled under his breath. Sherlock merely rolled his eyes and huffed.

Chapter 16

The researcher's stared at the subject in awe in a period of just over seventy-two hours remarkable changes had occurred. The spliced and experimental DNA was spreading like wild fire and physiological changes were taking place at an unprecedented rate. The subject was becoming resistant to the sedatives as they were being metabolized so quickly. Partial shifts were already starting to occur. Soon a complete transformation would take place. With this in mind, the subject was being held deep into the bowels of the dungeon and all four of his extremities were now chained. It was now impossible to maintain IV access not only because of the subject's constant thrashing but also because of the physical changes taking place during the partial shifts, so the drugs were given IM. An inhuman screech erupted from the subject as his entire body convulsed. "It's starting. Come immediately." The researcher ordered into the walkie talkie. He stared at the subject completely transfixed, as it continued to convulse and thrash held upright only by the chains on the wall.

Crimson scales replaced human skin. Huge leathery wings formed between the shoulder blades. Hands and feet became claws with razor sharp talons. A long thick tail appeared with four large spikes at the tip. The neck lengthened and so did the face forming a snout and a mouth full of fangs, which were clearly visible. Small spikes ran along the spine and down the middle of the tail. Smoke curled up from the nostrils as the subject breathed. Golden irises with slit pupils stared back at him with small horns atop a massive head. He was now staring at a creature of legend; one that they had created. A dragon. It was massive. It engulfed the whole cell and was forced to tuck in the wings and tail in order to fit it was not even able to turn around completely. It would need to be moved to a much larger enclosure. He raised the dart gun and fired but the creatures hide proved too well protected by the thick scales for the dart to pierce it. It let out a mighty bellow plowing against the thick iron bars of the door of the cell but it was unable to get much momentum because of the limited space. The chains previously holding the limbs had snapped during the transformation. The bars bent but held. Just as the second researcher appeared, the creature took a deep breath and held it for a few moments. It then released its breath and both researchers were overtaken by the inferno of flames, which the creature had produced.

Mycroft looked around his prison in search of escape. He rammed the iron bars once again. They bent a bit more but there was no way he would hope to fit through the gap in his current state. _My current state._ Mycroft thought. He closed his eyes and willed his body to shift back to human. At first nothing happened, but as he focused harder he could sense a change coming. Encouraged he pinpointed his every thought on becoming human. Mycroft roared as he shifted again. It was agony. The stress of shifting twice in such a short time period was too much and he lost consciousness and his human form lay naked and exposed on the stone floor of the abandoned castle.

Mycroft groaned as the pain washed over him as he regained consciousness. He shivered as the cold air hit him with a jolt. The sun had set and the dungeon was unheated against the bitter cold of the English winter. He carefully stood on unsteady legs and squeezed through the opening that he had made through the bars. He began ascending the staircase out of the castle dungeon. By the time he had made his way out of the castle, he was exhausted. He looked around for landmarks to pinpoint exactly where he was but there was nothing but the castle that had fallen into ruin and open fields as far as the eye could see. He was mostly likely in a very sparsely populated area in the English countryside. The ground was white with snow. Mycroft knew that he would quickly succumb to hypothermia if he stayed exposed in this weather much longer. His first instinct was to shift again. At least the dragon would generate heat easily and he would not freeze to death. He was so exhausted and weak that he didn't even know if that was possible at this point. A gust of bitterly cold wind kicked up leaving him numb with cold and trembling uncontrollably.

Against his will, he felt himself shifting. His screams morphed into a mighty roar. This shift was faster but still excruciating. Mycroft collapsed in the snow completely exhausted. He tried to flap his wings in a weak and inexperienced attempt to fly in ordered to find a more secluded and protected area but the effort proved too great. His long forked tongue darted out to grab some snow to quench his thirst. His stomach rumbled reminding him that he had not had solid food in over 72 hours. At least he felt warm in this form. Plums of white smoke emerged from his nostrils as he breathed. The wind picked up again and the snow came down hard. He needed food. Even with rest, he would continue to grow weaker the longer he went without eating. There was no game in the middle of winter amongst a blizzard. Mycroft had to fly. Summoning the last of his strength he stood and began to run opening his wings wide and flapping. As soon as a caught the updraft he, leapt and was air born.

Mycroft scanned the ground from a high altitude in order to avoid unnecessary attention. He lost track of time quickly as he soared through the air. Eventually, he came across a small farm. He landed a safe distance away. Mycroft knew it was a risk to steal livestock, but between the shift and the flying he was now desperate for food. Even he was seen, it was doubtful that anyone reporting having seen a dragon stealing livestock would be believed and may well buy himself or herself an admission to the psych ward. Moving silently towards the small barn housing the animals Mycroft's stomach cramped in anticipation. He easily unlatched the door unwilling to add destruction of property to his offenses. The animals began to panic at the sight of him thrashing in their stalls. Mycroft could not even fit completely into the barn, being nearly twice its size, without damaging the frame. Rather than enter completely, he put his long neck to use and began grabbing animals out of their stalls with his massive jaws quickly devouring them. Mycroft lost count of how much livestock he consumed stopping only after every last animal was eaten. He then latched the barn door and quickly flew the scene while making note of the address on the small farmhouse. Mycroft would send them a generous and anonymous donation once he made his way back to his residence.

Sherlock frowned deeply. It had been 48 hours since he and John had begun their private investigation of Mycroft's disappearance. They had gone through the security feed and found nothing helpful. The last image was of Mycroft in his private study. The power had gone out and with it the entire security system. It seemed his brother had indeed vanished. Sherlock suspected kidnapping. He had been able to rule out a number of foreign governments but was left with no clear suspects. Both Sherlock and John moved about Mycroft's private residence in search of clues. "I feel like a voyeur Sherlock." John complained as they made their way through Mycroft's personal effects. Sherlock merely grunted in agreement. As much as he would rather not rifle through his brothers things, it was necessary. Lestrade was also breathing down his neck and Sherlock had told him to sod off a number of times but he continued to call incessantly for updates. Sherlock was also worried though he would never admit it. Mycroft held unprecedented economic, political, and social status that made him a prime subject for kidnappers. What was worrying was the lack of a demand by the suspected kidnappers. It could mean that his brother had been killed during an attempted abduction gone wrong. Sherlock and John turned quickly as they heard the mechanisms controlling the elevators and trap doors within the estate spring to life. Mycroft was no fool and had secret passages, trap doors, hidden elevators and staircases and panic rooms as well as full surveillance and security. Which was another reason that the mere thought of an abduction had initially seemed impossible. "What's that?" John questioned unaware of the unorthodox methods of added security in used at the Holmes Estate.

"Elevator in the wall. Someone has made their way into the hidden passages in the walls." Sherlock explained. For once he wished that John had brought his browning.

Sherlock braced himself as the trap door beneath the closet creaked as it was forced opened. There was a grunt as the individual opened then shut the door. The closet door then opened to reveal none other than Mycroft Holmes. "Mycroft! Where have you been?" Sherlock demanded. John merely gaped at his brother clearly shocked by his miraculous appearance.

"How long have I been gone?" Mycroft asked. Upon closer inspection, his brother looked completely haggard and borderline emaciated. He was wearing only a tattered pair of dirty sweat pants and there was a blizzard outside. His ribs were clearly visible and his face looked gaunt. Sherlock was taken aback at the amount of weight he had lost in just a little over a week it seemed impossible even if he had been starved the entire time.

"A little over a week," Sherlock replied.

"What happen Mycroft?" John asked finally snapping out of his shock. Mycroft began to tremble. "Sherlock where are the linens. He's freezing."

"Closet bedside the bathroom across the hall." Sherlock said. John nodded and heading towards the closet in search of blankets. Sherlock knew however that Mycroft was not trembling from the cold but from anxiety. Sherlock eyed his brother critically trying to decide if he should push for information or let Mycroft supply it on his own terms. "Want to talk about it?" Sherlock asked deciding that right now was not the time to dig for information. Mycroft was obviously terribly stressed and it felt wrong to press him in such a state.

"Not yet. Give me some time Sherlock." Mycroft replied in a relieved voice when he realized that no inquisition was coming. John came back with thick wool blankets. Mycroft took one with a nod of thanks. "I need a shower, if you'll both excuse me." Mycroft said. John looked at him with a physician's concerned eye.

"You should warm up first." John suggested.

Mycroft shook his head. "I'll be warm enough with a hot shower but I appreciate your concern." He headed towards his large master bath. Leaving Dr. Watson and Sherlock alone to contemplate his whereabouts for the last week.

"What the bloody hell happened to him Sherlock? Did he say anything to you while I was gone?" John asked with a deep frown. Sherlock shook his head.

"I asked but he wasn't ready to talk and I didn't press." Sherlock explained with a sigh. "I can deduce quite a bit from his appearance and behavior." John raised an eyebrow a clear indication that he wanted Sherlock to continue with his deduction. "He was imprisoned judging from the bruises around the wrists and ankles and starved from the obvious weight loss. Possible torture involved judging from the haunted look in his eyes." John's frown deepened.

"Do you think he was tortured for government secrets?" John asked jumping to the most obvious conclusion. Sherlock shook his head.

"This was not the product of a foreign agency," Sherlock assured. Sherlock's mobile began to ring and to John's surprise he answered it. "Lestrade, we have located Mycroft. You can call off the official investigation." John could make a Lestrade's whirlwind of questions. "If you need further information you will have to ask Mycroft yourself. I highly recommend you wait to do that. He is not apt to discuss it right now." Sherlock said bluntly effectively cutting off Greg's line of questioning.

Mycroft moaned as the steaming water pounded over his sore body. His stomach clenched reminding him of its empty state. Food then sleep, he thought. Mycroft was too exhausted to contemplate the repercussions of his captivity at the moment. He would reevaluate after he had gotten so much needed rest. Mycroft frowned as he recalled that Sherlock and Dr. Watson were most likely still present and awaiting an explanation regarding his recent whereabouts'. In fact, Mycroft was still astounded that Sherlock had not begun interrogating him upon his arrival. Mycroft closed his eyes and attempted to clear his mind. He was unable to sense his alternate form, which led him to believe that unlike John Watson's wolf, he and the dragon were of one mind and consciousness.

Mycroft was unsure what to make of that. Not certain of whether it should relieve or terrify him. Mycroft shuddered attempting to calm his racing thoughts. Rest. He needed to sleep. He reluctantly shut off the water. Mycroft tied a towel around his waist and made his way to his bedroom to dress. He donned sweatpants and a t-shirt, which was something that he would ordinarily never wear. However, between his extreme weight loss and his sore body, he needed something comfortable which would still fit him. He sighed as he took in his appearance. The shower hadn't helped much. He looked like a holocaust survivor, complete with a similar haunted expression and eyes. His stomach cramped painful reminding him that it would not be forgotten. He slowly made his way to the kitchen not surprised to find both Sherlock and Dr. Watson there, sipping tea. He helped himself to a cup from the still warm kettle and took a seat next to his brother who, sniffled wrinkling his nose and raised an eyebrow at him, but remained blessedly silent.

Mycroft sipped his tea and looked around his large modernized kitchen. He doubted there was anything in the refrigerator that was still edible. The staff usually kept it sparely stocked to begin with, as Mycroft rarely ate at home, with only a few perishable items, primarily produce and milk. There may however be some eggs, which were still good. The scones in the breadbox were now over a week old and likely hard as rocks. He sighed and made his way to the refrigerator. As expected, the produce was past its prime and the milk expired, but there were half a dozen eggs. Mycroft took them out and pulled a skillet from the cabinet. "John, take a photograph. We'll likely never see this again." Sherlock murmured under his breath referring to witnessing Mycroft practice his culinary skills. Unbeknownst to Sherlock, Mycroft was actually an accomplished chef but never had the time to cook. Their mother as well as their grand mere, both of whom were excellent cooks had taught him when he was small, before Sherlock was born. They had also tried to teach Sherlock but he proved to be too impatient preferring to conduct experiments with the food, rather than cook it. Mycroft merely sneered in response, too exhausted and hungry to argue with him. He made quick work of the eggs, frying them and plating them. He then sat down and began eating with both John and Sherlock looking at him with surprised looks on both their faces clearly expecting him to fail miserably.

"I can fry an egg." Mycroft stated in between bites. Mycroft was done eating in under five minutes barely stopping to chew. "Mummy taught me that much." Sherlock frowned deeply, which was a clear sign that the information was new to him and that he was disturbed by it causing Mycroft to smirk slightly. "If you'll both excuse me, I need a nap. Stay if you feel you must, but I assure you that I will be safe." Mycroft said as he washed the plate and skillet and put them away making his way to the bedroom leaving John and Sherlock alone with concerned looks on their faces.

"Sherlock I know you don't want to push for information just yet, but he at the very least needs a medical exam. He looks terrible." John stated a few minutes after Mycroft had left. Sherlock nodded his head in agreement but remained silent clearly deep in thought. "What are you thinking?" John asked tired of being kept in the dark.

"Mycroft smells differently." Sherlock said. John frowned at the non-sequitor.

"New soap? Aftershave?" John asked still unsure at what Sherlock was hinting at. He hadn't noticed but then again he hadn't ever really given Mycroft's normal odor any attention or thought as opposed to Sherlock's that he would recognize in an instant. Sherlock shook his head still frowning deeply.

"No John, his sweat and the pheromones themselves are different. Something is very wrong. I noticed it when he first appeared but wanted to wait until after he showered to be sure that it was not something he had been exposed to that was still clinging to him. But even after the shower, he smells differently." John frowned.

"What do you think caused the change?" John asked trusting that Sherlock was correct.

"It must be something biological. Possibly a hormonal imbalance or cancer." Sherlock surmised.

John shook his head. "I can tell you with one hundred percent accuracy that it is not cancer. Cancer has a distinct smell that I would recognize anywhere. It smells musty and slightly sweet. It's a smell, which any physician can point out, especially in advanced stages. We call it the smell of death." John explained. "Do you think it may be drug related? They likely used some type of drugs on him at some point."

"Possible, but any drug which may have been used would likely already be metabolized by now." Sherlock explained. "I am going to have to press the issue when Mycroft wakes up. I have a feeling this may be far worse than I first imagined." John raised an eyebrow surprised that Sherlock had changed his mind and more so that he was going to stay and wait for his brother to awaken.

"Why don't you give me proper tour since we're not going anywhere anytime soon. Your brother looked half dead with exhaustion and he will likely be sleeping for at least eight hours." John stated grinning at the horrified look on Sherlock's face at the mere suggestion of touring the Holmes Estate.

"Haven't you seen enough of this place as we were rifling through his belongings looking for clues?" Sherlock asked with a huff bulking against the idea.

"I'm sure this place can't be all bad Sherlock. It has to hold a few pleasant childhood memories." John said searching Sherlock's face for confirmation. Sherlock sighed softly.

"There were a few here, but I have more many more pleasant memories of the summers that Mycroft and I spent in France with our grandmother." Sherlock confirmed looking pensive and melancholy. "I was so angry when he left." He whispered.

"When who left?" John asked. He was curious about Sherlock's early childhood before the incident as he had come to think of it.

"Mycroft." Sherlock said his voice slightly haunted. "I loved him dearly John and He left me alone to go to university. The other children called me freak, but he always tried to protect me." John sighed as more understanding dawned about Sherlock's resentment of his brother.

"Sherlock, what did you expect? He did what was required of him particularly for someone of your background and social status. Imagine the upheaval it would have caused if he had refused. I know he loved you too and I'm sure he missed you." John said softly. "I think you need to really talk to him Sherlock. I'm not saying you have to tell him everything, but you need to discuss the past so you can put it behind you and move forward." Sherlock remained silent taking in John's words. John could see the internal battle he was having with himself. "Life's too short for regrets. I urge you to really consider my advice. He's the only family you have left." Sherlock frowned looking more conflicted then ever. "I understand resenting family members poor choices, but that doesn't stop me from forgiving their mistakes if I believe that they are truly sorry for them, take my sister for example." Sherlock had deduced almost all of John's personal history and was nearly completely accurate. John had filled in most of the gaps. Sherlock was well aware of the issues that John had had over the years with Harriet. "I've forgiven her. I'll never forget the things that she did but I have made my peace with it and I think that it's time that you do the same with your brother. Please think about it." Sherlock nodded. That's certainly progress John thought to himself.

Several hours after falling asleep, Mycroft began moaning in his sleep. He was back in the dungeon chained to the wall in agony as his body attempted to shift. He felt searing pain as his bones bent and muscles tore, but no relief came. The shifts were partial and never ending. Mycroft screamed and prayed for death as his captors watched in fascination as his body tore itself part. Mycroft was wrenched from his dream as Sherlock shouted and shook him hard. "Mycroft! Wake up!" He sat up abruptly gasping for breath, heart pounding, shaking and covered with sweat. He looked around wildly realizing that it had been a nightmare. He was home and safe in his bed. Sherlock's worried eyes bore into his. Sherlock gasped as he looked into them. Mycroft felt naked and completely exposed. "What's wrong with your eyes? What happened to you Mycroft?" Mycroft turned his head and caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror above the nightstand just in time to see the golden color fade into blue. Mycroft lifted the blanket and confirmed that he was fully human. There was no more putting it off; he needed to tell Sherlock what happened, whether he was ready to or not. Mycroft tried unsuccessfully to calm his rapid heart rate and breathing.

Sherlock stared at his brother in shock. It all suddenly fell into place. The weight loss, and the change in scent were a result of genetic manipulation not unlike that which was performed on both John and himself. A number of researchers from Baskerville were still at large and had to be the ones responsible for Mycroft's abduction and the genetic manipulation, which was now apparent. "What did they do?" Sherlock demanded. When Mycroft remained silent seemly still dazed the nightmare. Sherlock shouted in frustration. "Mycroft!" Sherlock growled. Mycroft blinked and shook his head as if to try to clear it.

"Sherlock, I- " Mycroft swallowed painfully voice hoarse from screaming. "Dragon," he whispered in a trembling voice unable to offer any further information as he finally allowed himself to break down. His body shook with racking sobs as the full weight of what had been done to him became clear.

Sherlock closed his eyes schooling his features to remain neutral. Mycroft was upset enough already without seeing a look of abject horror which lay just beneath his falsely calm exterior. Dragon? How was it possible? How could one create a creature of Myth? There was no actual DNA to use for splicing. Sherlock took a deep breath and forced his voice to remain calm and in control. "Tell me what happened." He insisted softly, but Mycroft was still in the midst of a crying jag. Sherlock took another deep breath, sat down on the bed, closed his eyes and pulled his shaking brother into his arms folding his wings around them. "Ne pleure pas ca va aller." Sherlock murmured trying to soothe him. _Don't cry. It'll be alright_. Mycroft clung to him and Sherlock held him until the sobs began to ebb replaced be uneven breathing.

"Je suis desole." _I'm sorry._ Mycroft blurted as he pulled away from Sherlock abruptly realizing what he had just done and wishing he could take it back. Sherlock would never let him forget this show of weakness. Mycroft could feel himself starting to shake again. He desperately wanted to hold on to Sherlock. As if sensing this, Sherlock gently pulled him back into his arms murmuring "N'ayez pas peur, vous etes en securite maintenant." _Don't be afraid. You're safe now._ Mycroft felt himself beginning to relax. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply feeling his heart rate slow to normal. He buried his nose in the crook of his brother's neck and inhaled deeply. Sherlock smelled wonderful, fruity and lush. The scent made him feel calm and relaxed and a bit protective. Mycroft had caught the faint hint of it in the kitchen but hadn't realized that it had been coming from Sherlock. He began to feel drowsy.

Sherlock could sense his brother starting to relax. Sherlock rubbed his back as Mycroft clung to him. After a few more minutes, Mycroft's breathing became deep and regular and when Sherlock looked down he realized that he had been a little too soothing and had unintentionally put Mycroft back to sleep. Sherlock debated whether he should wake him and decided that he would let him sleep a bit longer. It would give him a chance to talk to John about what Mycroft had said and get his opinion on the matter.

John's head snapped up, as Sherlock entered the kitchen. "Tea?" He asked. Sherlock nodded. John frowned as he handed the cup to Sherlock. He pulled Sherlock close and scented. Sherlock smelled off. He was covered with someone else's scent overpowering his own. John felt a surge of anger and possessiveness come over him. He growled. "What is that smell all over you?" John hissed capturing Sherlock's lips and kissing him deeply. He moved his attention lower to Sherlock's neck and collarbone lapping at him possessively until the foreign scent was replaced with his own. Once Sherlock smelled like a mixture of them both again, John relaxed.

Sherlock chucked softly. "Easy John, no reason to be jealous. It's just Mycroft you're smelling. I was holding him after a nightmare. As I told you, his scent is rather potent. He was not intending to claim or mark me." Sherlock explained. John frowned.

"Did he tell you what happened?" John asked and then it was Sherlock's turn to frown.

"He didn't go into specifics but he was experimented on like we were at Baskerville." Sherlock explained. John's eyes' widened in shock. "If what he says is accurate than he has dragon DNA. John shook his head in disbelief.

"Impossible. Dragon's aren't real. There is no DNA to use for splicing." John insisted. Sherlock nodded but bit his lip.

"I know that John and until he proves it I can't be sure, but I don't think that he was lying." Sherlock confessed.

John still looked skeptical. "I'll believe it when I see it." John stated "Where is he now?"

"He fell back asleep and I decided not to wake him." Sherlock's mobile rung and he answered it with a sigh. "DI, as I have already told you, my brother has been located and is safe. He has yet to return phone calls. I'm sure that he will begin going through his many messages once he is feeling up to it." Sherlock explained using a great deal of patience. "I will tell him you called. I would not expect an immediate response however." Sherlock said as he ended the call. "Lestrade is nothing if not persistent." Sherlock said with a huff. John was not surprised. Greg could be stubborn as an ass when he put his mind to something.

John's mobile was next to ring. John glanced down at the screen and answered it when he saw that it was Molly. "Molly, Ta for calling back." John said in greeting. He grinned as he listened to her reply. "I owe you big time." John hung up and looked at Sherlock. "We can come in for the scan tomorrow night." Sherlock frowned but nodded knowing that it should not be put off any longer. "Don't worry love. It's just a precaution." John reassured giving Sherlock's hand a gentle squeeze. Both Sherlock and John looked up as Mycroft made his way into the kitchen.

"How are you feeling Mycroft?" John asked raking an assessing gaze over him. Mycroft still looked exhausted. He sat down heavily on the chair next to Sherlock with a heavy sigh.

"I have been better, John." Mycroft answered which was an obvious understatement. Sherlock was staring at his brother unabashedly and no doubt making rapid deductions based on his appearance and behavior.

"Another nightmare?" Sherlock asked. Mycroft nodded in confirmation. "Care to talk about?" Sherlock suggested none to subtly.

"I would rather not, but I owe you both at least a basic explanation." Mycroft conceded. "I was abducted and held prisoner. During that time, I was given experimental drugs, which altered my genetics similar to the ones that were no doubt used on both of you at Baskerville. The changes, however, occurred much more rapidly than my captures expected. I shifted quickly into my alternate form, a dragon, and was able to escape making my way back here." Mycroft sighed and looked into John's disbelieving eyes. "I assure you it is true, Dr. Watson. If I were not currently so undernourished and exhausted, I would shift and prove it to both of you. I will once I regain my strength. Until then, however, I will remain human as it would be dangerous to attempt to shift in my current weakened state." Sherlock nodded as his deductions were confirmed.

"Gregory Lestrade has been asking to speak with you Mycroft. He is very persistent and will not stop calling, even after I have repeatedly assured him of your safety." Sherlock added as an afterthought. Mycroft sighed deeply clearly not up to speaking with anyone just yet.

"I will speak with him but I need a bit more time." Mycroft murmured under his breath. "You don't think that he would show up unannounced, do you?" Mycroft asked somewhat worried.

Sherlock shook his head. "Lestrade may be pig headed, but he's not daft." Sherlock said with a snort. "Now, if you no longer require our presence Mycroft, we should be getting back to Baker Street."

"I'll be fine. I'll call you once I've sorted myself out." Mycroft assured but he looked far less confident then his words implied.

"You're sure you'll be alright?" John asked. He knew Sherlock disliked it here, but he was somewhat reluctant to leave Mycroft when he was still in such a venerable state. "At least let me give you a brief exam. It would help put my mind at ease. I have my medical bag in the boot of the car." John bargained. Mycroft looked uncomfortable but nodded his assent. John went to get his bag before the elder Holmes changed his mind and tried to back out.

John returned quickly and set his bag on the table. Sherlock excused himself allowing his brother and John some privacy. "You ready?" John asked as he removed his stethoscope from his bag. Mycroft nodded stiffly looking very uncomfortable. "Take off everything save your undergarments. Mycroft flushed with embarrassment but complied. John looked him over critically before he began. It was difficult to tell whether there would be major changes to Mycroft's human physique once he regained the weight, which he had lost during his captivity. John could actual see more of a resemblance between the siblings now then ever before. Mycroft's high cheekbones were now clearly visible bringing the bone structure of his face to light in a way that wasn't obvious before. There was a definite resemblance now and it was making John a bit unnerved. Once John had taken his vitals, he brought the stethoscope to Mycroft's chest noting a scar, likely from a surgical incision, and listened to his heart sounds. He frowned when he heard a galloping murmur. "Do you have a history of heart murmur?" John asked.

Mycroft nodded with a sigh. "Teratology of Fallot." Mycroft stated without further explanation. John's eyebrows climbed to his hairline in surprise. John moved on to the lungs, which were clear bilaterally. John moved to the abdomen and listened for bowel sounds. He continued to go through each major system until he was finished. Other than his heart murmur and malnourished state, Mycroft's exam was grossly benign.

"I didn't find anything unexpected other than the murmur that you were already aware of." John explained. Mycroft did, at least, look a little relieved at that. "You should have basic panel run on your blood to establish your baseline which has no doubt been altered." John advised. Mycroft nodded but said nothing more seemly lost in his own thoughts.

"Do you still sense your wolf, John?" Mycroft asked out of the blue. John frowned deeply closing his eyes and concentrating. The wolf and himself were becoming closer and more aware of each other. John was not sure whether this was a good or bad thing, but it was happening, nonetheless, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it. If it kept up, then perhaps their consciousness would become one and John could control his shifts both during and outside of the full moon. That would be a definite benefit.

"Yes. Although, I am becoming more aware of its presence, and it can also sense mine. I can feel our consciousness's starting to blend together more after every lunar cycle. Eventually, we may become one." John murmured with a shudder voicing his fears for the first time. Mycroft nodded and sighed.

"Thank you for your advice Dr. Watson. Feel free return to Baker's Street with my brother. I will contact both of you if I require further assistance. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must unfortunately begin dealing with official business which has been neglected during my absence." Mycroft said with a deep frown obviously not looking forward to returning calls and dealing with all the issues that surely must have piled up. It was now John's turn to nod as Mycroft excused himself in search of his phone and tablet.

John made his way back to Sherlock who was sitting in the window seat in the foyer. "We have been officially dismissed." John said and Sherlock smirked.

"Very well. Come along John before my esteemed brother can change his mind." Sherlock said with huff getting up and heading towards the door.

Chapter 17

"Bollocks," John murmured under his breath as he moved the ultrasound wand over Sherlock's abdomen to try and confirm the blurry image. He squinted unable to make out the fine details but it he didn't know better he would swear he could make out the flutter of a heartbeat. He zoomed in to enhance it and turned on the sound. The telltale whooshing of a heartbeat filled the room. John's jaw dropped in disbelief. Impossible! But the proof lay right in front of his eyes. Sherlock was pregnant. Two fetuses were clearly visible sharing an embryonic sac and placenta. Judging by their size, they were most likely conceived after John's first rut about 18 weeks ago. John tore his eyes away from the ultrasound image and looked at Sherlock, who despite his lack of medical training, clearly recognized the image on the screen and wore the same shocked look as John.

"Pregnant, with twins, my symptoms now make sense." Sherlock stated in a trembling voice clearly in shock. John closed his eyes and took a deep breath in a vain attempt to calm his racing heart and thoughts. Sherlock was right, all the symptoms fit-from the nausea, and vomiting, in the beginning to the more recent weight gain, increased appetite, and fatigue. He should have seen it and if Sherlock had been female, John would have suspected it immediately. "John, I can't do this," Sherlock said as he started to tremble. John's head was spinning. If his calculations were correct, then Sherlock was nearly halfway through the pregnancy, assuming that he would deliver at 40 weeks, which was much too late for an elective abortion. This left them with little choice but to continue with the pregnancy and pray that both the babies and Sherlock would survive it.

"Sherlock, we don't have much choice. You're too far along, approximately 18 weeks, nearly half way." John said looking into Sherlock's terrified eyes. "We'll get through it. Try not to panic." John said in a reassuring voice but internally cringing at how clichéd he sounded.

Sherlock shook his head. "No John! I can't. We can't. Bollocks!" Sherlock cried unfurling his wings in frustration and knocking over several containers accidentally.

"Easy Sherlock, I know it's a shock, but you have to stay calm. Take a deep breath." John instructed pulling Sherlock into an embrace and stroking his hair. Sherlock buried his face into the crook of John's neck, which soon became damp with his tears. "It's ok love. I've got you." John murmured and kissed Sherlock gently. Sherlock sighed and seemed to calm slightly.

"I want to go home John." Sherlock said as he broke the kiss. "Mycroft must not find out." John groaned at the mere thought. If Mycroft had been obsessive before, John dreaded to think how he would be if he found out his brother was pregnant. Although, Mycroft was definitely preoccupied with problems of his own at the moment and that might make it easier to sneak something by him. John nodded but doubted that it would be possible to hide it much longer.

"Lets go home Sherlock." John agreed but kept his doubts to himself. Now was not the time. They both needed time to adjust to the shock and regroup before they formulated a plan.

As the made their way up the stairwell of 221 Baker's street, Sherlock turned to John with a look of such naked vulnerability it literally took John's breath away. "John, I think we need to leave London, possibly flee the UK. Mycroft must not find out." John shook his head in disbelief.

"I don't think fleeing the country is the solution Sherlock, that will no doubt cause Mycroft to panic launch an international search." John said with certainty as they entered the flat. "I think it would be better to lie low, but I truthfully don't see how we will be able to keep this secret for much longer without you becoming a hermit by not leaving the flat to avoid detection. I know that it wouldn't be long before you became stir crazy. Not to mention there is the complication of my monthly transformations." Sherlock's eyes darkened and his jaw clenched at John's words.

"I refuse to become a test subject again John and that it precisely what will happen if my brother discovers my condition. He will insist I be hospitalized and remain under constant observation. I cannot allow that, I would rather risk death than be put under a microscope again." Sherlock said in a trembling voice. John frowned.

"You don't know that is how he would react Sherlock, especially after his own brush with the "researchers" during his captivity. He may surprise you." John said gently.

Sherlock scoffed in disbelief and shook his head. John sighed as frustration overtook him. "As much as I hate to admit it, we may need his connections to get both you and the babies through this safely. I'm a trauma surgeon, not an OB. I'm not qualified to treat you."

"I will not allow another physician near me John. I trust you." Sherlock said in a pleading voice. John shook his head in disbelief. Sherlock was mad if he thought that John could handle this. He hadn't dealt with a pregnancy since his obstetrics rotation in medical school. John grit his teeth about to argue when there came a loud rapping at the door.

"John! Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson called sounding panicked. John quickly answered the door revealing a terrified and shaking figure. "Have you seen the news? There is a dragon loose in London!" Both John and Sherlock sprang into action hoping to stop the disaster which was unfolding.

Chapter 18

Mycroft roared as half the Met surrounded him. There were aerial units as well as ground units both on foot and cavalry. Mycroft attempted to shift back to his human form, but nothing was happening not matter how hard he concentrated. People were understandably panicking at the mere sight of him. Mycroft was still unsure of what had triggered him to shift unwillingly into his present form but he now seemed to be stuck and could not change back. Mycroft had no desire to cause damage or destruction and knew that he needed to get to a less populated area. He spread his crimson wings and was airborne with the choppers following him.

Mycroft flew swiftly above London's crowded streets. He still didn't know what happened. After hearing the countless messages from Gregory Lestrade, Mycroft took pity and called him back to assure him that he was indeed unharmed. The DI had been disbelieving and bombarded Mycroft with questions that were better left unanswered. Gregory begged him to come to London so he could see for himself that he was truly unharmed. Against Mycroft's better judgment, he agreed and left his private estate to meet Gregory at New Scotland Yard headquarters. If Mycroft had known that some unknown trigger would cause him to transform into his dragon form in the middle of central London, then he would have never agreed to the meeting. Mycroft tried to pinpoint what caused the shift but came up empty. The last thing he remembered was seeing Gregory Lestrade sprinting towards him in obvious relief outside the main entrance of NSY. As soon as Gregory had pulled him into an unexpected embrace, Mycroft could feel the shift rising against his will. He wrenched out of the DI's hold and began backing away trying with all his might to stay human but to no avail. The shift quickly overtook him and as the public began to panic Mycroft did as well. He roared in confusion when he was not able to immediately shift back to his human form. The only blessing was that he maintained full awareness and control regardless of his inability to shift at will.

Mycroft increased his speed and altitude in an attempt to loose the aerial units but knew even if he was successful it was only a matter of time before satellite and sonar identified and located him. Mycroft could feel his heart rate increase not only with the effort of flying but also with the knowledge that the whole disastrous event had been caught on tape and was no doubt making its way across the news reels. Mycroft roared in frustration. This was something that he could not make disappear even with all of his governmental and political power.

Sherlock and John made it to New Scotland Yard headquarters and were greeted be chaos. Gregory Lestrade made his way through the crowd looking shaken and terrified. "Sherlock, John, I take it you've both heard and seen the footage." Greg said in a trembling voice.

Sherlock sneered. "Obviously, what did you say to my brother immediately prior to the transformation?" Sherlock asked. Greg blanched trying to remember if he had said anything as he was holding Mycroft before he had pulled away looking panicked and then the unthinkable had happened. Greg shuddered as he recalled Mycroft's inhuman screams as he had changed into a beast of legend.

"I don't remember exactly, but something along the lines of 'thank God you're OK'." Greg said and turned away to answer his phone. "They did what?!" He shouted clenching his phone in anger. "Idiots! It's a miracle no one was killed. Where is he?" Greg listened still fuming.

"Problem?" Sherlock asked his words laced with sarcasm.

"They shot at your brother and injured him causing him to fall from a high altitude during flight into the Thames. He is gravely injured from the fall and presently unconscious. They are evacuating London Zoo and are moving him there to veterinary unit on site where they will attempt to stabilize him." Lestrade said shaking with anger.

Sherlock's face became an unreadable mask, the fury lurking just beneath it. "Get us there now." Sherlock murmured darkly.


	4. Chapter 19-21

Chapter 19

There were days that Gregory Lestrade truly hated his job and this was one of them. He was having more and more trouble remembering why he had chosen this profession. He soon discovered that in reality police work was not what he had initially thought it was. Protect and serve, his arse. His job increasingly consisted of grueling hours, mountains of paperwork, dealing with press and public relations, towing the line with the never ending regulations that seemed to hinder rather than help him do his job, and finally attempting to fix other peoples screw ups. The stress and workload became worse every year. He didn't mind the danger of the job; it was the rest of the bullshit that got to him. He felt like screaming. He couldn't believe that the Met had shot at Mycroft. While terrifying, he hadn't been violent and had attempted to evade rather than attack.

Lestrade looked at John and Sherlock who were riding together in the back of the patrol car. Sherlock looked furious and John's face was etched with worry. Lestrade couldn't blame either of them. He was beyond frustrated as this point. He chose to remain silent as they made their way to London Zoo where Mycroft was currently being held and treated. Heads would definitely roll over this and Greg intended to severely punish whoever had been directly responsible for the shooting.

Greg, Sherlock and John made their way to the on site medical wing and were greeted by the head veterinarian. "I'm Dr. Sean McKenna. I'm currently treating the patient." He spoke with a soft Irish brogue. "I had difficulty obtaining IV access but finally was able to get a line in a few moments ago. The patient is currently still unconscious. Let me take you to him." He explained leading the way to where Mycroft was currently being held.

Sherlock stared at the massive creature a mixture of shock; awe, and fear clear in his expression. Its crimson scales shown brightly catching the light as it breathed raggedly. It was still unconscious but with thick ropes slung over its body and tied to stakes in the ground, a poor restraint if Sherlock ever saw one, it clearly wouldn't hold if Mycroft regained consciousness. He now regretted not pressing Mycroft for more information regarding the transformation. The veterinarian had performed a cut down making an incision between two scales to obtain IV access to administer fluids and medications. Sherlock made note of visible injuries. There was a puncture wound in one of the wings that was bleeding sluggishly and the extremity was twisted at an odd angle obviously broken and had not been splinted yet. Sherlock clenched his teeth and attempted to remain calm, but could feel his blood pressure rising.

"Good God." John murmured as he took it all in. "Sherlock, will he be aware and in control when he awakens?" John asked with a shudder. Sherlock didn't know. God help them all if Mycroft didn't not retain awareness in his current form, there would be no stopping him. Although not certain, Sherlock had feeling, based on the news footage which had showed the incident in its entirety, that Mycroft was aware in this form. If he had not been, then there would have likely been more destruction and violence. Mycroft had tried to escape rather than attack, although his obvious injuries could put a strain on his control.

"Has he been given sedation?" Sherlock asked in a strained voice. Lestrade was pacing, worried and angry as he chewed out the persons responsible for shooting at Mycroft in the first place over the phone. The vet approached looking stressed and exhausted.

"I've only given him pain medication, but nothing for sedation. I don't want to compromise his breathing. Intubation is impossible with his airway and fire breathing capabilities. I'm struggling to estimate the correct dosages. I don't know how quickly he will metabolize the medication. That wing needs surgery. The break is bad. It is a comminuted fracture and needs pins, rods and a fixator. We've done multiple ultrasounds to rule out internal bleeding. Luckily, the wing is the worst of the injuries aside from some bruising." The vet explained glancing at Mycroft with a worried look on his face. As if sensing the scrutiny, Mycroft's eyes opened and began to dart around. Sherlock immediately approached in an attempt to keep him from panicking.

"Sherlock, be careful!" John warned grabbing his arm attempting to pull him back.

"John, stay calm. The last thing we need is for Mycroft to panic." Sherlock insisted as he pulled John closer to explain. John sighed and nodded moving beside Sherlock as they carefully approached Mycroft who was just beginning to stir. "Mycroft, try to relax. You've been injured. Your wing will require surgery to heal." Sherlock said in soft voice gently stroking Mycroft's snout. Mycroft groaned and lifted his long neck to look at his injured wing. He then shifted snapping the ropes, which covered his back. "Mycroft, try not to move. You'll pull out the IV line and you need it for fluids and medications," Sherlock pleaded. Mycroft snorted in irritation causing a cloud of smoke to release from his nostrils and stood carefully digging his razor sharp talons into the earth for leverage. He closed his eyes and pulled both wings close to his body holding his breath. After a few moments, the massive creature trembled as it struggled to remain upright obviously in great pain. It let out a pained wail and sunk to the ground. The veterinarian had a syringe filled with what Sherlock presumed to be pain medication. Miraculously, Mycroft's IV was still intact.

The vet carefully approached announcing his name and intentions holding the syringe in plain view allowing Mycroft to see it. When Mycroft whined rather pitifully and closed his eyes, Sherlock nodded at the vet to administer the medication. Mycroft heaved a massive sigh as the medication took effect. The vet watched carefully as Mycroft closed his eyes evidently falling asleep. "I need to prep him for surgery." The vet said a worried expression marring his face.

"Are sure that's wise?" John questioned. "Suppose regains the ability to shift?" Sherlock was inclined to agree with John. If they performed the surgery and Mycroft shifted before the wing healed, then it would likely be reinjured during the shift.

The vet frowned but held his ground. "We cannot leave that wing unattended. His body will attempt to heal itself and if the break isn't realigned, set and immobilized it will heal improperly and therefore will have to be rebroken and set anyway."

Sherlock sighed. What the vet was saying was true. "How long after surgery before it heals completely?" Sherlock asked wondering how difficult it would be to keep Mycroft from shifting before that wing healed.

"Minimum six weeks." The vet answered.

"Six weeks!" Greg shouted in disbelief. He had been listening to the last half of the conversation since hanging up the phone. "You expect to hold him here for six weeks? How?"

"I don't really have a choice," the vet explained. "If he is unable to shift right now, then the surgery needs to be done and the wing allowed to heal."

"Do you think Mycroft will tolerate it? Being in this form that long?" John inquired looking at Sherlock for confirmation.

"Difficult to predict. I think that we need to ask my brother. He may not be able to speak but he is aware and can at least nod his assent." Sherlock advised.

Chapter 20

Four weeks later

Lestrade made his way with John to the very back of London Zoo to the largest enclosure where Mycroft was being held in the facility, which was currently closed to the public. The media frenzy and resulting fallout surrounding Mycroft's transformation was worse than expected. Baskerville's activities were revealed and despite Mycroft's actions in its shut down and his lack of fault, people had gone so far as to protest around the Zoo demanding that Mycroft be "put down." Too dangerous to keep alive the extremists claimed. Scotland Yard had to guard the Zoo for fear of an attack on Mycroft. Lestrade highly doubted that anyone would be able to injure Mycroft; it was more to protect the idiots who might attack from Mycroft's retribution.

According to John, Sherlock still wasn't feeling well and that is why he hadn't been visiting Mycroft lately. Lestrade worried that the rift between them was only getting wider. Lestrade doubted Sherlock was ill. It was more likely an excuse to avoid seeing his brother. Lestrade gut tightened when the reached the enclosure and Mycroft came into view. The dragon lie motionless, eyes closed, on his side, listless on the grass. The metal fixator was still in place on the injured wing in order to stabilize the wing as it healed. Mycroft did not acknowledge their presence. The vet, Dr. McKenna had recommended that they visit as Mycroft was barely eating and losing weight although the wing was healing nicely and the bloody fixator could be removed within the next week, which was earlier than expected. Both John and Lestrade suspected that Mycroft was depressed. "Mycroft!" John called with a small wave. "Greg and I have come for a visit. Sherlock wanted to be here but is still feeling under the weather." John explained as Dr. McKenna let them into the enclosure and they cautiously approached the dragon. Mycroft opened his eyes but otherwise remained motionless. John knelt down and gently stroked above Mycroft's golden eye with Lestrade looking on warily. "How are you feeling?" John inquired. Mycroft huffed in reply sending a stream of smoke into the air. "That bad?" John asked with a chuckle. Mycroft closed his eyes evidently content to ignore John. "You're reminding me of Sherlock when he's sulking right now." John confessed pulling his hand away somewhat reluctantly. Mycroft's eyes snapped open again and made a sound between a growl and a whine. "You're losing weight and need to eat more." John advised as he moved away slowly making room for Lestrade to come closer and try his luck.

"Cheer up mate, the doc promised that bloody metal contraption will be ready to come off next week and you can try shifting again." Lestrade promised but Mycroft didn't respond closing his eyes again. Lestrade shrugged at John at a loss as to what to do. He was worried. Mycroft seemed to be languishing here. While he was aware and could respond to yes and no questions, he couldn't communicate further and it was frustrating to everyone. Lestrade wanted to speak more personally but not in front of John and the vet. He sighed. "Mycroft, John's right. You need to eat more. You want to be healthy when that thing finally comes out so you can shift back to human easily." Mycroft didn't respond but for a heaving sigh. John frowned. Lestrade wished that Sherlock would come by and visit; perhaps he could talk some sense into Mycroft or at the very least get more a response.

Chapter 21

"Sherlock, I'm back from the Zoo." John announced as he made his way into the flat. Sherlock was sitting in the armchair with his feet up on the ottoman looking very uncomfortable. John made his way behind him and rubbed his shoulders earning a soft sigh and small smile from Sherlock.

"How was Mycroft?" Sherlock asked genuinely concerned, frowning, as he rubbed his swollen belly.

"I think he's depressed Sherlock. He's losing weight and barely acknowledged us, but on the bright side they can remove the fixator next week earlier than planned." John reported.

Sherlock smirked. "Who would have thought that changing my brother into a dragon would be his path to weight loss?" Sherlock snipped but his heart wasn't in it. It was clear to John that he was worried and wanted to see Mycroft for himself but it would mean revealing his pregnancy and now was simply not the right time. Perhaps once Mycroft's fixator was removed and he was able to shift again. "Are the vitriolic masses still protesting outside?" Sherlock asked. John nodded and Sherlock frowned. "I hate people." John gave him a dirty look. "Except for you John." Sherlock clarified. John raised an eyebrow. Sherlock sighed, "and Mycroft and the DI, I suppose." Sherlock grudgingly admitted. "Pregnancy is making me maudlin." John smiled but held his tongue not wanting to open a debate about it. "John, I'm so bored! Stuck in the flat! With the media uproar, there are photographers everywhere just looking to get a shot of anything that is remotely related to Mycroft's transformation, myself included. I'm going stir crazy." Sherlock moaned dramatically.

"There isn't much we can do right now but lie low until your brother is healed and can shift back to human. We need to discuss what to tell him. You know he'll demand answers as soon as he transforms." John said. This was the conversation that he had been dreading. Sherlock needed Mycroft's contacts whether he admitted it or not. This pregnancy needed to be kept tightly under wraps but Sherlock needed a skilled OB who would keep quiet and access to medical equipment for proper treatment during his pregnancy without drawing unwanted attention. John had been treating him as best he could but it was far from ideal. It was just dumb luck that Sherlock's pregnancy had remained free of complications so far.

"John, I-" Sherlock started but was interrupted by Sherlock's mobile phone ringing. John groaned. It seemed every time he attempted to have this conversation they were interrupted by something. "DI, What's happened? Something with Mycroft?" Sherlock asked wasting no time on pleasantries. Sherlock listened for a moment his frown deepening as the color drained from his face. "Moriarty," Sherlock murmured.


	5. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

"_I'll burn the heart out of you."_ Moriarty had promised. Sherlock was transported back to the pool. John was being used as a pawn in Moriarty's sick game. John, who became like a puppet, with Moriarty pulling the strings. He was helpless as the sniper trained on him with the bomb strapped to his chest. Sherlock could remember panicking internally as he pointed John's Browning at Moriarty as the red dot from the snipers scope hovered on John's heart. It was then that Sherlock vowed never to let Moriarty get close to anyone he cared about again. As Lestrade had explained that Mycroft was missing without a trace, Sherlock couldn't think of anyone else who could be responsible. Mycroft had not simply vanished into thin air. Because of the broken wing he was unable to fly, and therefore it was unlikely that he could have left by his own choice without being spotted. The researcher's responsible for Mycroft's initial abduction were now dead. That left one suspect. It had to be Moriarty's doing. Sherlock could only surmise on what he was planning. Sherlock could, however, at least take comfort in the fact that Mycroft was aware in his current form and it would be next to impossible to control him or use him as a weapon in his dragon form. Ironically, Mycroft would only be vulnerable if he shifted back to human form.

"Sherlock, what's happened?" John asked looking worried. Sherlock sighed as he and contemplated how this investigation would become a nightmare. Sherlock's pregnancy was now very obvious and even a loose trench coat would do a poor job of concealment. John could move about unnoticed and do the scouting with Lestrade but they would not be nearly as efficient without Sherlock with them.

"Mycroft is missing." Sherlock explained frowning as John smiled.

"You're putting me on both you and Lestrade." John said with a slight laugh, which quickly ended when he realized that Sherlock was serious. "How? How in God's name does anyone abduct a dragon which was being guarded by the Met?" John asked clearly upset.

"I have limited facts at this point, but it appears that the crowds which have been gathering around the Zoo suddenly grew exponentially and became violent prompting a response from the guards. The crowds then moved away from the Zoo but continued their destructive activities. The Met acted leaving the Zoo unmanned while dealing with the unruly crowds. When they returned, Mycroft was gone, vanished with a trace. I suspect that this is Moriarty's doing. The mob was likely a distraction to pull attention away from Mycroft so that he could be taken. I think that this was clearly a message for me. I don't know if Moriarty realizes that my relationship with Mycroft is strained at best and that he presents a rather poor choice as a hostage." Sherlock said with a smirk that didn't reach his eyes. John looked at him in disbelief stunned into silence. "This case will prove difficult to investigate." Sherlock murmured with a shudder as the thought of Moriarty learning about his pregnancy came to mind. Sherlock cradled his swollen belly feeling the gentle flutter of movement. Sherlock would not allow their children to become a pawn in Moriarty's sick games. Sherlock and John may not have planned this, but they were both committed now and intended to do everything possible to protect their children.

John shook his head. "You can't Sherlock. As much as it pains me to say it, we have to leave it to Scotland Yard, especially if your theory about Moriarty's involvement is true; Greg's going to be furious. He already thinks that you're avoiding your brother out of spite." John looked torn clearly frustrated by their situation.

"If my theory is correct, this is Moriarty's way of baiting me into showing myself. If I don't investigate and make myself known, then he will likely continue baiting me in other ways which I dread to think about." Sherlock said in a resigned voice.

"No, Sherlock, absolutely not. It's to dangerous." John insisted as he looked at his mobile, which chirped with a text. Sherlock knew it was from Lestrade from the exasperated look on John's face.

"There must be a way John. You and Lestrade can do the legwork of the investigation for now and depending on what turns up we'll go from there. Moriarty may find that he has bitten off more than even he can chew in abducting Mycroft in dragon form. With no way of forcing a shift, Moriarty will be hard pressed do any real damage and have no way of extracting information from my brother." Sherlock assured. "John, meet Greg and get a briefing. Tell him that I will be involved but can't directly investigate and tell him to keep it quiet. If he insists on knowing why, make an excuse. I don't want anyone to know about this pregnancy, particularly if Moriarty is indeed masterminding this as suspected." John looked dubious about the plan and remained silent but Sherlock could sense his disapproval, which was practically palpable.

John turned his head looking at the wall, which was still riddled with bullet holes as a result of Sherlock's past bouts of boredom seemingly staring into space. Sherlock waited as John took it all in giving him time to think and digest. He brought his gaze back to Sherlock tracing first his gravid midsection then bringing it up meet his eyes. "I'll meet with Greg, but I won't make him any promises. I refuse to put you at risk." John said in a tone that was hard as granite leaving no room for argument.

Sherlock simply nodded not inclined to argue and further upset John. He, however, suspected that the decision would soon be taken from them, as Moriarty would never cease until he obtained what he wanted whether he acted directly or through his ever-reaching network of crime that had infiltrated the United Kingdom and beyond.

"Go, John, be careful." Sherlock said although the warning was unnecessary. John was more than capable, but Sherlock still remembered the pool and was reluctant to allow John investigate without him but had little choice.


	6. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Greg Lestrade moved about anxiously through the crowds towards his office as he awaited John's arrival. It seemed the old adage of a full moon bringing chaos was proving to be true at the moment. Greg was at a loss as to how this had happened. The zoo had only been left unguarded briefly, seemingly not nearly enough time to orchestrate an abduction. Mycroft was still grounded because of his wing and incapable of flight. He had also seemed rather depressed but Greg hadn't sensed any underlying desire to escape the zoo coming from him. So the possibility that Mycroft left by choice was very slim. "Bollocks!" Greg muttered under his breath as he made his way into his office making his way past the television in the lobby, which was now covering the latest news on Mycroft's disappearance. Another bloody fuckup that was now being blasted across the news reels! Just what he didn't need! On top of everything, Sherlock was still in hiding although John had promised to speak with him regarding Mycroft's probable abduction and obtaining assistance with the case.

Greg slammed the door to his office taking a deep breath to try to calm his shattered nerves. He had never felt so helpless and inadequate. He had failed to protect Mycroft not once but twice and now he was at a complete loss. There were no clear leads. Forensics had been over the scene and who ever had pulled this off was a pro. They left no tell tale evidence and there were no signs of a struggle. Had Mycroft regained his ability to shift and had he changed back to human form and simply walked away unnoticed? Possible, but it seemed unlikely. Between the injured wing and evident depression, there seemed to be very little chance of that happening. Greg shuddered as he thought of what it would be like to be trapped in that dragon form but completely aware and unable to communicate properly. Over a month, stuck in that zoo, being gawked at by jeering crowds screaming day in and day out that you're nothing but a dangerous animal and need to be put down. If being trapped in that beastly form didn't drive Mycroft mad, then the captivity and protestors surely did. Greg was beginning to wonder if they had made a mistake keeping Mycroft in London for treatment but it was over and done now and there was no use dwelling on what could have been. Greg just prayed that Mycroft was alive and unharmed. He had suffered enough already.

Greg was pulled from his thoughts by a knock at the door. "Greg, it's me John. Are you free to talk?" John called from outside the door in a tired voice. This whole disaster seemed to be wearing everyone down. Rather than answer, Greg opened the door with a nod and John took a seat in the chair in the corner of the office. "What has forensics found? Anything useful?" John inquired getting straight to the point the strain evident in his voice. John body language was off. His fists were clenched and he twitched with nervous energy that belied the exhaustion, which was evident in his face.

Greg frowned as he took in John's haggard appearance. There were deep shadows under his eyes evidence of his lack of sleep. While he knew that John was concerned about Mycroft, he doubted that his disappearance weighed as heavily on his mind as it did on Greg's. Something else was likely bothering him and Greg intended to find out what it was. He refused to brief John on a case, no matter how hopeless it may seem, if his mind wasn't completely on it. "What's bothering you?" Greg asked. John's eyes narrowed and seemed to gleam and shift to gold, but as quickly as it happened; it was gone and John's eyes looked their normal blue. John inhaled deeply causing his nostrils to flare and he stared seemingly fixated on him. Greg shook his head. It must have been a trick of the light. It had to be. All of the stress must be getting to him. He was imagining things. John went from looking tired and defeated to agitated and on edge in the blink of an eye. This was more than John's military training showing itself. The change was palpable and Greg felt a chill run down his spine as he looked at John who seemed to be stalking him with his eyes like a predator looking at its prey. "John?" Greg asked failing to keep the word steady as fear made his throat tighten. John shook his head looking around anxiously. The sound of Greg's voice did the trick and the strange predatory stare was broken. John then seemed a little more himself but still far from normal, his face awash with worry and guilt. Before Greg could inquire further, John held up a hand to stop him biting his lip as his eyes flashed golden and inhaling deeply again closing his eyes. Greg stood and began to back away slowly sensing John was on the brink of something major.

John's eyes then snapped open back to their familiar light blue shade. "Greg, I-" John began but stopped to take a deep breath. "You're right. I'm not myself. I shouldn't be here now." John murmured as his eyes darted around shifting colors briefly again. Greg was sure he saw it this time. He felt his heart hammer in his chest. There was something very wrong with his friend. "I have to go. It isn't safe. Call Sherlock. He'll speak to you over the phone. Just call from a secure line. I'll tell him you're calling." John said in a rush as he made his way out the door with a mumbled apology leaving Greg shaken and more than a little afraid.


	7. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

John ran out of NSY headquarters as fast as he could. He could feel the wolf fighting for dominance. John didn't understand why this was happening. While it was the full moon tonight, it was early morning and the shift did not normally begin until after sundown. John had hoped to get a briefing from Greg and update Sherlock before he shifted into wolf form. Something was wrong. John needed to get away from the crowded streets. The chaos of London was making the wolf skittish and fear would no doubt lead to aggression. John was unsure if the wolf was capable of forcing a shift outside a full moon but he could sense its agitation and need to protect both itself and its pack, which was how it had come to think of Sherlock and the babies. As much as John loathed the idea, he had to return to Baker's Street. The wolf would feel safe there and at the very least, seeing Sherlock may satisfy the need to protect and he could then figure out what was causing the wolf such distress before nightfall. John weaved his way through the crowds deciding that while it would take longer, it was safer to go back to Baker's Street on foot. The wolf was much too close for comfort and the thought of being confined to a cab, even for a short time, might push John's wolf over the edge. John couldn't take that risk he refused to put innocent people in jeopardy.

John moved into one of the less crowded alleyways in an attempt to avoid the crowds. He made his way into alley and leaned heavily on the brick building. He closed his eyes and attempted to calm the creature within him fighting for control. John forced his breathing to slow inhaling deeply through his nose and exhaling through his mouth. The scent of the city was sharper. It was almost as if John had already shifted, his senses, while highly acute in human form, were twice as sharp while in wolf form. A cacophony of smells assaulted him: rubbish, mortar, exhaust, humans, rats, and something that John didn't immediately recognize. John could feel the wolf begin to panic and could sense the beginnings of a transformation. As he squeezed his eyes shut putting all of his concentration into staying human, he failed to realize that he was no longer alone. A sickeningly sweet smell engulfed him as cloth was held against his face. John thrashed as he recognized the smell of A.C.E mixture, a long abandoned form of anesthesia that consisted of a mixture of alcohol, chloroform and ether. His brow furrowed in confusion as the drug quickly took effect. As he opened his eyes in a last attempt to stay conscious, he was greeted by the face that appeared in many of his nightmares. _Moriarty._ The thought floated through his mind as he lost consciousness.

Sherlock stared at his mobile on the table willing John to return his calls and texts. Sherlock had insisted that John meet with the DI for a briefing despite knowing that tonight was the full moon and John's wolf would be just below the surface. Normally, John avoided contact with people at least two days prior to the full moon for safety's sake. With his increasing control during the last shift, Sherlock had assumed that the trip would be without complications. He had obviously miscalculated. Sherlock immediately answered, as his mobile rang not bothering to look at the display. "John?" Sherlock murmured into the phone.

"Sherlock? Thank God you answered! John told me to call but I wasn't sure if he was brushing me off. Is he alright? He was acting really strangely and bolted out of my office. He gave me quite a scare." Lestrade explained. Sherlock's heart clenched with disappointment and then fear. Something had happened to John. Sherlock grit his teeth. He was trapped without safe options. He took a deep breath before answering making a decision that he hoped that he wouldn't live to regret. He didn't have a choice; he had to tell Lestrade everything and hope that he would keep his and John's secrets.

Greg Lestrade made his way quickly to Baker's Street. Sherlock had refused to go into detail over the phone stating only that he needed to come immediately and that he would explain and make everything clear. Rather than argue, Greg followed the instructions at least bolstered by the fact that Sherlock was finally willing to meet him and have a face-to-face discussion. He would definitely have some explaining to do after pulling that disappearing act, especially since Mycroft needed him. The cab moved through London's heavy traffic at a snails pace and Greg wondered if it would have been faster to go on foot. His mobile rung and he answered it reluctantly when he saw that the incoming call was from Donovan. He listen as she described a new homicide case which was bizarre to say the least. The killer had left the body in an alley not far from NSY headquarters. The throat was cut. What was disturbing was the fact that the killer had written 'come out come out where ever you are' on the wall with the victims blood on the wall behind the body. _Great,_ Lestrade thought, _a killer who wants to play hide and seek_. Perhaps as long as he had Sherlock's attention he could run this case by him as well.


	8. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

If the good the samaritan knew that the simple act would lead to his death then he most likely would have chosen to keep his distance and phone in a report, but fearing that official help would come too late the civilian had acted. As he passed the alley, he heard the faint sounds of scuffling. He ducked his head into the alley and was shocked at what he came upon. There were two men. One was holding something over the others' face as he thrashed trying to break free of the others hold. The man's struggles soon became weaker. "Hey! What the hell are you doing?" The civilian called as the man lost consciousness. Rather than answer, the attacker smiled and came towards him and pulling out a blade. The civilian blanched and started to back away while reaching for his phone to call for help.

"Ah, ah! You should have minded your business. Now you get to be part of the game." The attacker murmured as he lunged at the civilian catching his wrist and causing him to drop the phone.

"Let go!" He shouted desperately pulling attempting to free his hand. The attacker's grip was like steel and he pulled the victim towards him slashing his exposed neck. The attacker laughed as blood gushed from the wound as the victim crumpled into a heap onto the ground.

"Now, this is sure to get Sherlock to come out and play." The attacker cackled as he used the victim's blood to write his message on the wall. The attacker's head snapped around alarmed by the sound of screams and snapping. The attacker gaped frozen in shock at the sight of man transforming into wolf. The shift was rapid, the fastest yet. In under a minute, the massive form of a wolf growling and snarling had replaced the unconscious human. The attacker went for the blade as the wolf advanced. The attacker thrust the blade into the wolf's shoulder as it snapped his humerus in two with its powerful jaws.

A scream rang through the alley as another onlooker was attracted by the noise. The wolf pulled back dashing remarkably fast, considering its injury, into the maze of dark alleyways of London. The attacker followed in its wake cradling his injured arm leaving the murder victim and the macabre message.

221 B Baker' s Street

Sherlock opened the door to the flat at 221 B Baker's Street allowing DI Lestrade to see him in person for the first time in months. The DI's eyes widened in shock at the sight and he paled. Sherlock frowned as Lestrade swayed and grabbed the doorframe to steady himself. "Really, Lestrade, after witnessing my brother transform into a dragon, I would think that nothing could shock you. Please don't faint in the hall. I'm in no condition to catch you and carry your unconscious body into the flat." Lestrade's mouth opened and closed rapidly struggling for something to say regarding his change in appearance. Sherlock had not bothered to wear his coat and his wings were in full view, additionally, his swollen belly was obvious under his dress shirt and pants.

"Y-you could have warned me!" Lestrade said taking a deep breath attempting to calm his rapid breathing and heart rate.

"Perhaps I should have. Please come in and sit down before you fall over." Sherlock conceded begrudgingly. He had been so distracted with John that he hadn't even thought to warn the DI about the changes, which were a result of Baskerville or the fact that he was carrying John's children before Lestrade witnessed it for himself. He had only warned Lestrade of the absolute need to keep the information that he was about to impart confidential. Lestrade nodded numbly following Sherlock and sitting on the sofa as Sherlock took a seat in the armchair. "I owe you an explanation detective." Sherlock began.

Greg stayed silent as Sherlock told him about what had been done to Mycroft, John and himself at the hands of Baskerville's sadistic researchers. He then confirmed that he was pregnant and that the babies were John's. He explained his suspicions regarding Mycroft's disappearance and his worry that John may be next. "I hope you understand the need to keep these developments confidential detective." Sherlock finished with a deep sigh looking unusually nervous.

Greg smirked. "I think after dropping that bomb you need to call me Greg. I get it Sherlock but it doesn't mean I like it or approve. You should have told your brother you were pregnant." Sherlock huffed and rolled his eyes earning a frown from Greg.

"I had my reasons Greg. My relationship with my brother is not your concern. I was going to tell him once he transformed but he disappeared before that happened." Sherlock said seemingly forcing himself to address him by his first name. "Now, however, my immediate concern is John. It is the full moon tonight and he is going to shift. I'd rather he not be running around London when that happens. We need to find him." Greg had to agree. John's strange behavior in his office earlier today now made sense. Greg suddenly remembered Sally's call.

"Sherlock, I think we have a lead." He said as he went into the specifics about the recent homicide. Sherlock closed his eyes and sighed looking worried.

"It's Moriarty, Greg. He's playing a game with me and I think he done something to Mycroft and John. We have to find them, but if I show myself, I'll be walking right into his hands. We need to be careful." Greg nodded.

"I want to help. What do you need me to do Sherlock?" Greg asked. Sherlock's full lips pressed together and he looked reluctant but eventually asked.

"Do you have any favors that you could call in Greg? We are going to need help. I need to stay as behind the scenes as possible. I've built up more than a few but we may need yours as well."


	9. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

The wolf ran darting through the narrow streets easily losing the human, which attacked it. John was buried deep and still unaware. This shift had been forced and fueled by panic and adrenaline causing the normal balance between human and wolf to be disturbed. The wolf was now fully in control and did not have access to any of its human's thoughts or memories. It was injured, panicked, and lost in a concrete jungle with no way of finding its mate without its humans help. The wolf made its way out of the alley and onto the crowded street. People screamed as they caught sight of it. The wolf darted across the road nearly getting struck by several vehicles. The unfamiliar sights, sounds and smells of the city further increased the panic as people began fleeing. Agents from London Animal Care Centre were dispatched as people put out panicked calls assuming the wolf had escaped from Zoo. The wolf continued to run down the streets as people moved frantically out of its way. The wolf needed peace, quiet and solitude in order to calm down. It continued to run in search of somewhere safe. It's breathing became labored as the adrenaline fueled by its panic began to ebb. The pain in its injured shoulder became more noticeable and it would soon have no choice but to slow its frantic pace. It darted into the entrance to the tube system making its way down the escalator and into the underground railway tunnels. Commuters scattered as the doors to the railcars opened. A few of the more brazen commuters began filming the confused wolf with their phones. As the rail car pulled away, the wolf jumped down into the now empty tracks in an attempt to escape the crowds whining as it jarred its injured shoulder and limping to the side of the track trembling with fear and pain.

After giving his word to help, Greg was still in shock regarding Sherlock's revelations. He couldn't stop staring at Sherlock. The brilliant white wings and rounded belly were totally unfamiliar and out of place. "I'll make some tea and when I come back please try not to stare. I am not an experiment to be gawked at." Sherlock snapped. He took a deep breath and then murmured. "Pay not attention to that Greg. I didn't mean it. I've been on edge lately, but if you say one bloody thing about hormones you'll regret it." Sherlock promised as he made his way to the kitchen before Greg could reply. Greg could feel a migraine coming on.

If what Sherlock suspected was true and Moriarty was at the heart of Mycroft's and now John's disappearances, then finding them would be a nightmare. Moriarty's criminal network stretched far beyond London and the Met had been working to take it down for years without success. What was worse was that from what they gathered from profilers Moriarty appeared to be more than a little mad, most assuredly mentally unstable. There were no clear motives for half of the crimes he committed and of late he seemed to want to play with Sherlock and engage him in a sick cat and mouse game that started with the cabbie, and had ballooned leading to John's prior abduction at the pool, and the royal scandal involving the infamous woman, Irene Adler. There had been a lull in activity on Moriarty's front after Baskerville but it now seemed that he was back and more obsessed with Sherlock than ever. Greg was pulled from his thoughts by another call from Sally. He frowned and felt his pulse quicken as she described chaos in London's tube system caused by an escaped wolf which had yet to be caught. "Shite," Greg murmured. John had shifted and was now running loose in wolf form in London. At the very least, John was safe from Moriarty for now. There was still something amiss. John was far from careless and wouldn't do something so reckless willingly. Greg hung up the phone and went about the unpleasant task of informing Sherlock about John's whereabouts.

Sherlock paced back and forth. This couldn't go on. He needed to go out and investigate. Hiding in the flat was doing no good. Sherlock grit his teeth in frustration. He had promised Lestrade, who had gone out to help with John's capture and to ensure that he was not injured, that he would remain here until they had formed an action plan. It would take some doing but Lestrade assured Sherlock that he would get John back to Baker's Street. None of this made sense. John wasn't due to shift until after sunset. Even if he had shifted early, John should have come to Baker's Street immediately. John maintained some awareness in wolf form and was capable of finding the flat. Something had set him off and caused this leading to this current mess. Sherlock took a deep breath. First Mycroft, now John, Moriarty was baiting him. Perhaps one positive thing may come out of this debacle. John may have valuable information on his nemesis. Although Sherlock would have to wait three days before he was able to speak with John about.

Lestrade had called in quite a few favors but had managed, with the assistance of the Met, to have the tube station evacuated and the rails put on hold until John could be captured and transported. Lestrade sighed as he looked at the massive wolf, which John Watson had become. There was a tranquilizer dart embedded into its side and it was now in a holding crate unconscious. Lestrade was unsure of what to do next. John was injured and would require medical attention but he had promised Sherlock that he would get John back to Baker's Street as quickly as possible. Lestrade pulled out his mobile and called Sherlock to give him an update.

Sherlock picked up his phone and listened as Lestrade explained that John had been injured, captured, and sedated. Sherlock could feel his blood pressure rise as Lestrade went on about John needing medical treatment for an apparent stab wound to the shoulder. Despite the injury, Sherlock wanted John brought back to Baker's Street. Further confinement would only cause agitation and aggravation of the injury. If the injury was truly critical then Sherlock would pay a vet to make a house call. Sherlock needed John to be calm and the easy way to do that would be for him to be at home. Sherlock hung up the phone only after Lestrade had given his word, despite his concern, that he would indeed delivery John back to Baker's Street.


End file.
